


stars in our darkest nights

by DidiNyx



Series: 2018 Lams Fics [5]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Debate Club, Drama, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Extended Metaphors, Family Dynamics, Fate & Destiny, Fluff and Humor, Foreshadowing, Friendship/Love, Guilt, Historical References, Horseback Riding, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Inspired by Music, Inspired by Poetry, Lams - Freeform, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Minor Violence, Nature, Past Character Death, Past Lives, Past Relationship(s), Philosophy, References to Shakespeare, Reincarnation themes, Religious Conflict, Self-Discovery, Self-Hatred, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Travel, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, gosh john is such a gay lovable nerd wtf, i cried so many times while making this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-04-03 21:02:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 79,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14004696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DidiNyx/pseuds/DidiNyx
Summary: Fate, destiny, karma- whatever it is you believe, some paths were bound to intertwine and influence. These common objectives could be found within the soul at its awakening point. Or, in this case, too many wine glasses and blood.Alexander and John have their individual sorrows and conflicts- whether it's aimlessly chasing stars or seeking an invisible silver lining. Against all odds, Love and Time allow them to meet once again...under a few conditions.**AKA an excuse to work with plot while using a story I'm familiar with. Bare with me.





	1. the wrong place, the wrong time

**Author's Note:**

> You wouldn't /believe/ how much motivation I needed to even start this. It's been an idea of mine for a long time but only recently have I found the motivation to write it all. With school projects, choir rehearsals and life plot twists... my life has been complicated lately. BUT thankfully I managed to whip this up in my free time and I am planning on updating frequently :) 
> 
> A few side notes:  
> Yes, these chapters are based on either songs or poetry and I will reference them in the ending notes. Cuz I'm a nerd.  
> I tried to balance and organize everything the best I could but if you need any clarification just let me know! In general I'd love to explain some certain plot decisions I make and of course references to the historical context.  
> HEADS UP: There's gonna be lots of character analysis before we get to the actual romance and ish, but it'll come!
> 
> Without further adieu, enjoy!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Too many fires scorching your mind_   
>  _Too many preachers saying what you should find_   
>  _Just see the signs_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:  
> This first part is kind of an emotional rollercoaster. I admit some parts are messy but I tried to keep the end pretty clean. 
> 
> Also PLEASE check out my previous work: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13954188 <3 like I don't want to sound desperate but i'm a slut for kudos soooo

The first thing you experience when you are first born is that feeling of _home_. You're bound to it, you live with it, you cannot change it for the time being. They say that home is where the heart is, and so as a child it is natural to feel as if this home will be permanent because life is so simple when you're a youth. Even from far away, when home is in the distance, you could easily point out your house like "Oh yeah, home is this way, and when I come back all my family will be waiting for me," because that is the norm. You know this as well as you can identify the stars adorning the sky.

 For young John, his upper-class home under the burning South Carolinian sun was no exception. Everything he knew was South Carolina; this was his home. He lived with his brilliant, headstrong father and elegant, kindhearted mother and his four siblings: Martha (Patsy), Henry Jr. (Harry), James (Jemmy) and Mary (Polly). They learned of a variety of topics in their homeschooling and private schooling and attended church every Sunday. They were free to roam mother's garden and their wide outside yard, along with attending play dates with friends as well. 

Whereas Martha and Mary typically preferred tea time and the simple nature observing activities, Henry Jr. and John enjoyed more of the roughhousing though John took this beyond Henry's extent. In fact, adults would joke that John was simply the boldest child ever to roam Charleston. He was curious to a fault, picked unnecessary fights and would do about any dare the other kids threw at him.

  ** _You're gonna know it all_**

  ** _You're gonna think you're ten feet tall_**

**_And run like you're bulletproof_ **

Despite this, he was a good child. Polite, sensitive, good-natured, kind. John knew this, and his parents did too. He was everything his parents could ever want and more. Of course, so were the rest of his siblings, but his parents always had that extra eye on John, due to both his queer interests in fighting and the arts (more than the rest of his siblings).

He seemed to be so sure of himself. He knew what he wanted in life, and even as a child would sometimes scoff over his father's lectures of "When you grow up, Jack, you're gonna be just like your Dad, you know that? A businessman, a sales worker. Carry on my legacy, won't you?" John would giggle and hide, his mother smiling in the background. She'd grab John's hand and say "Alright, enough of Henry's teasing," and would shoot Henry Laurens with a halfhearted glare. "Ready for piano?"

And so he gladly left his father with his fantasies. _Surely that could never be me._

Yet despite all his mother's separate, distinct lessons when compared to father's, he was continuously pressured. "You're my eldest," he explained over and over. "This is best for the family."

John was daring, but he was also incredibly loyal. Even in youth, he knew the importance of legacy, and of family and honor. He wanted to make his father proud, and wanted to prove to his siblings he was capable too. He obeyed his father.

"How can you expect to continue piano lessons when you have to study for law?" Martha would ask.

"Jack, I do believe you are late for Dad's lessons," Henry Jr. would tease.

"I refuse to cover you this time," Mary said with a frown.

But Jemmy encouraged him. "I think you're right to choose Mama over Father."

John smiled. "Did I mention you're my favorite sibling?"

Jemmy scoffed but said nothing, smiling at their rebellion.

It was never to be true, though. Father made sure of that.

**_You're gonna be so stubborn_ **

**_You get that from your mother_ **

**_I already see it now..._ **

**_You weren't built for backing down_ **

* * *

 One day, just to prove a point to father, John and James managed to sneak out of the house..

"Jack, who are we even meeting?"

John wrung his hands nervously. "Dunno," he admitted. "Some kid we hung out with last week, remember?"

"Yeah... Why?" Meeting his brother's eyes, realization hit. "Oh, no! You were _serious_ about fighting him?"

John bit his lip. "Yes."

" _Why_?" James asked, appalled.

John shrugged. "I want to prove Father wrong."

"What's there to prove?" James demanded. He was really good at being John's voice of reasoning when John acted out of impulsive habits. "You're already the poster child of success, or whatever." James furrowed his eyebrows as John refused to meet his brother's eyes. "I do not understand. Why do you always feel you need to pick fights?"

John didn't have an answer, but he wouldn't be the one getting hurt. As he danced around actually throwing any punches at the boy he met with, he finally swung after hearing the former's unbearable taunts. 

The kid was too quick. He ducked and John's fist landed on Jemmy, who cried out in shock.

John gasped and ran to his brother. He hissed "Go!" to the other boy and helped his brother up.

"You hurt?"

"I-I don't think so..." He was too scared to meet his brother's eyes, and John felt guilt flood his heart.

"Okay... Okay, I'm taking us home."

John admitted the deed to father, who listened in shock. But then he chuckled. "Jack," he said gently yet firmly. "You're lucky you go to church."

At first, this comment confused John, but as he grew up it became known: If he hadn't John might've been considered a troublemaker, a damaged child- which he refused to be.

On top of law studies, there were Bible readings, naturally. 

God was the only religion role model young John knew of, so he thought he was, in fact, the gospel truth. That's all there was in life: legacy, family, the countryside, and God. Nothing to it.

John once asked one night as father was tucking him in, "Dad, is it true we can ask God for anything?"

Henry smiled. "Yes, son. That is why we pray every night. We thank him for already providing us with the things we need, and if what we need now is more reassurance, that is what he gives us. Remember, no matter how lost your path may seem, God has something planned for you."

John thought of his studies. "So God can change anything?"

"Yes."

This was considered. "Can I pray that Jemmy will feel better soon?"

Father's face softened. "Of course."

"Can I pray that Jemmy will forgive me?"

Father chuckled. "Yes, yes, of course."

"Can I pray that God will always protect Jemmy?"

There was a long stretch of silence. "God watches over us all." He kissed his son's forehead.

After he left, John climbed out of bed, got on his knees and bowed his head.

"God, please keep my brother safe."

James would go through many trials, and some were considered for fateful than others.

John would never forget how frightened his brother was when he accidentally punched him, or how sick he looked throughout his childhood years. In a way, it was like he was letting everyone down. He couldn't save his brother, nor his mother. He couldn't make his Dad happy by loving law. He realized didn't even know what he wanted, or what he believed. Everyone said that God loved everyone, that he had a plan mapped out for every soul. 

So why did John feel so lost and confused?

* * *

This confusion on self-identity would continue to be John's biggest struggle. He was told how he was supposed to live his life for his _whole life._

 

Jack, you have to be a businessman.

Jack, you have to carry on our legacy,

Jack, you have to be devoted to God.

Jack, you have to marry this beautiful woman.

 

...And was told what he couldn't do.

 

Jack, do not sin.

Jack, do not disappoint us.

Jack, do not give in to fear.

Jack, do not forget who you are.

 

Though these were more of suggestions, still he'd be damned if he couldn't live up to them.

Home already was a struggle. He still loved his family dearly, and he still appreciated his continued lessons regarding music, art, foreign languages, horseback riding, athletics, ect. But he forced himself into his father's work. The older he got, the more he fell from faith. This was only due to a self-revelation that took him years to _fully_ understand.

And it starts simply with a new friend, someone stubborn with strong opinions, someone who wasn't afraid to oppose people. Someone just as bold as how John used to be in youth. With this friendship came something deeper... A sort of attraction John didn't know could even exist.

It wasn't the friendly attraction.

* * *

Geneva, Switzerland. He managed to convince his father that visiting there for a while would help himself reconnect with his studies, and technically that was true- But there was another reason. He needed a break from all his family responsibility and the pressure he was constantly under. 

John didn't like leaving home, _ever_. But he knew it was necessary. _Besides, I'd have someone close to home_ , he recalled. Father had mentioned Francis, the son of two parents Henry happened to know, probably due to business. (Which made sense because that's also how they knew the Manning family, the ones they idealized being eventually the Laurens family's in-laws through a marriage with Martha Manning and John himself... These comments came across as jokes but it was clear they all wanted John to marry someone as dear and gentle as Martha, his close childhood friend.)

He only knew Francis beforehand due to church and through Francis's sister Mary, who happened to know Martha Manning. (And Martha was considered John's closest friend.) He never really dwelled on Francis; he was irrelevant until now, a person in the background.

Once off in Geneva, that would change.

_**I knew you were trouble when you walked in** _

There was something off about the boy, and John couldn't tell if it was a negative or positive trait. He seemed typical enough. Studied law, the eldest of his siblings, born into a more "upper class" Catholic family, a gentleman. Francis had this facade, however, and it was hard to identify. He seemed outgoing and charismatic but was also extremely closed off and secretive. He was sarcastic but knew how to be polite and charming to strangers. This wasn't necessarily out of the norm, but it interested John and he wanted to know more.

Francis was just unnerving. His green eyes were unnerving, his tight smile was unnerving, the fact that John had to look up to actually meet his eyes was unnerving. John decided he had to talk to him.

On the surface, they were quite alike when regarding background; they knew (in the physical and psychological sense) where each other came from. Yet they continued to debate. Whereas John hated law, Francis enjoyed it. Whereas John thought mankind needed new teachings, Francis thought they needed more resources. Whereas John allowed himself to be vulnerable in their friendship, hoping to know what exactly this attraction was, Francis never really wore his heart on his sleeve. He didn't want to know their nature in this new, intimate relationship... The words, the physical touches, the glances, the _wanting_. It felt all too surreal.

This relationship... was rebellious. It was different. That's what had drawn John in. He wanted to explore more, find out who he was in the process. It's funny how at first he couldn't imagine the possibility of this relationship being on the borderline of platonic and helplessly romantic. Somehow still he was too blind in his discovery, yet still didn't feel fear.

**_Shame on me now_ **

**_Blew me to places I've never been..._ **

**_Now I'm lying on the cold hard ground_ **

* * *

 Finally done with dancing around their feelings, Francis confronted him about it. "John, what would you call this?" He gestured to John's hand holding his own.

John furrowed his eyebrows. "Um, companionship?" he asked in a bemused tone.

Francis huffed. "What about chasing around each other like we do?"

"That's- I don't understand."

They did. Francis was hard to please, even if you somehow got close to him. And John was just... Well, he wasn't sure what he wanted, so he just followed in Francis's shadow.

There was nothing wrong with that.

They were still there for each other, right? So what did it matter?

**_You're never gonna love me, so what's the use?_ **

**_What's the point in playing a game you're gonna lose?_ **

**_You're too proud to say that you've made a mistake..._ **

**_You're a coward 'til the end_ **

**_Why don't we just pretend?_ **

It was hard to meet Francis's intense stare, neither angry nor affectionate. "Why would-"

"John, you need to open your eyes," he said in his usual blunt way. "Do you know what our families think about _this_ kind of love? About people like us?"

"I don't understand..."

Francis sighed and dropped his hand away from John's. "I didn't expect you to."

He could've sworn he saw past his friend's facade, revealing something he'd never associate with the other man... 

Fear.

Fear of people finding out, fear of losing themselves, fear of harming themselves. Fear of simply... not knowing if this path was the right one.

What had he meant? Weren't they... fine?

Days after, he couldn't stop thinking about what that could have possibly meant.

_People like us._

That was stupid. That explained nothing. 

But Francis's attitude didn't ease John's increasingly worried state of mind. Francis was naturally closed off, but this was ridiculous. Francis snapped more, isolated himself more, pretended not to notice John entering the room and busied himself in his work. John became restless, desperate.

"What's wrong with you?" he muttered loudly enough for Francis to hear.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

 ** _Lies, don't wanna know, don't wanna know_**....

**_I can't let you go, can't let you go_ **

**_I just want it to be perfect_ **

**_To believe it's all been worth the fight_ **

John doubted that. He resorted to almost _begging_. "Please.. did I do something wrong?"

Naturally, blaming himself was easier.

Francis finally looked up with tired, almost sad eyes. "No, John. You... Are always so good, so loyal."

"But...?"

There was a long stretch of silence.

**_Lies..._ **

John huffed, exasperated. "Fine, don't tell me," he said with not enough sharpness. 

Like usual, they'd crawl back to each other. But every time they did so more tension still stayed between them.

It became less and less as their beginning: Fun, reckless, teasing yet somehow more genuine before.

Even if Francis was lying, or at least hiding the whole truth.

Even if John singlehandedly took all of love's bullets himself in his endless war for peace...

...for clarity, for a remedy.

* * *

 Francis was very convincing. He'd say everything was fine, with such simpleness that John believed him. Plus, he easily charmed his way out of trouble anyways, so nothing stayed too complex (at first).

**_Did you think we'd be fine?_ **

**_Still got scars on my back from your knife_ **

This didn't stop the endless unspoken questions in John's mind once their relationship _did_ turn south.

_Do I truly love him? Do I truly want him? Am I capable of breaking his walls, like I so desire?_

**_So don't think it's in the past_ **

**_These kind of wounds they last and they last_ **

That was the goal since the beginning: _Learn more about him, make him want to learn more about you._

The basis of their friendships was made of tiny leaps of faith.

**_We jumped, never asking why_ **

**_A love no one could deny_ **

They surely didn't (at first).

**_I can’t live a lie, running for my life_ **

_Do I even love you?_

This went against everything John had ever known. It went against _home_. Home is where the heart is, but if you know neither your own heart nor your own home, where does that leave you?

He shouldn't be questioning, yet he did.

**_Did you think this all through?_ **

**_All these things will catch up with you_ **

Francis was a flame that burned when he spoke or even simply touched John. 

John relied on his warmth, but it soon was only as much as its dying embers in its dying flame.

**_I never meant to start a war_ **

Shouts, arguments, fighting, biting comments and a cold resentment clouded their relationship. The object of most of their arguments was cloudy; they were over petty things but somehow represented the big picture:  _We do not belong. We are sinning._

**_And time can heal but this won't_ **

**_So if you're coming my way... Just don't_ **

They were both terrified, yet the differences still remained:

Francis could move on.

John could not.

**_I just wanted you to let me in_ **

And so when Francis decided it was time he moved on, the first thing John felt was an overwhelming amount of heartache and betrayal. 

**_I guess instead of using force_ **

John was disgusted at the whole situation- and himself. He _wanted_ this. He decided to go _along_ with it, even when it clearly felt _wrong_. 

_So.. what? I go against all of what I've ever known, thinking maybe I could win this battle._

_But I was wrong._

**_I probably should've let you in_ **

_I shouldn't have stepped up. I shouldn't have walked up to him. I could've avoided this, I could've avoided harming myself with my own curiosity. I could've prevented everyone possibly finding out and the... then what? I'd be disgraced, disowned._

_I would have let everyone down._

_I'm lost and broken, and I let it happen._

**_I wish I never looked_ **

**_I wish I never touched_ **

**_I wish I could stop loving you so much..._ **

It was true. He had begun to genuinely like Francis.

John's heart raced. All he could think of was just how much he loathed himself for getting out of hand.  _I can't believe you were stupid enough to believe you were free._

**_I wish I couldn't feel_ **

**_I wish I couldn't love_ **

**_I wish I could stop because it hurts so much_ **

At this point, John felt as if everything he touched just... died.

He just wanted to _stop_.

However, he still wished to feel the pain. Maybe then we couldn't forget, and therefore never make the same mistake.

_Don't I deserve this?_

**_These battle scars, don’t look like they’re fading_ **

  
**_Don’t look like they’re ever going away..._ **

  
**_They ain't never gonna change..._ **

 

No. Maybe he could never change.

* * *

As soon as John arrived home, he nearly cried in relief.

Geneva. It was over.

Or at least Francis... at least _that_ was over.

He busied himself with his law studies more than before. He found every opportunity to help around the house, such as cooking and babysitting his siblings. He found himself trying to focus more on church and prayed harder than ever for a miracle.

And for forgiveness.

_Can you imagine?_

He only had his mind on redemption. He had no room for sorrow, for reminding himself of the past. He simply let that bitterness, hurt and heartache settle deep within his heart and in the back of his mind. 

He almost let himself forget. He actually almost _did_ completely forget, simply by neglecting his emotions and forcing to change his mindset.

 _This mistake shall never happen again_. He was sure of that.

When father mentioned Francis, he simply shrugged and played it off. He couldn't afford to dwell on the truth.

"Father," he asked one day. "Is it okay if I spend more volunteer hours at the church?"

Henry was delighted. "Of course, Jack. You've been spending more time there... You're okay, right?"

John smiled tightly. "I am... Geneva..." He tried not to let his voice crack. "Geneva has enlightened me. It was very beautiful, Mother would have loved to see it."

Before John could leave out the door, Henry said "Wait."

John turned, nervous, though he didn't let it show.

"I'm proud of you, John."

John simply smiled and left as quickly as he could. He couldn't afford to hear that and feel guilty.

_If only they all knew._

**_If you live like that, you live with ghosts_ **

**_If you love like that, blood runs cold_ **

* * *

 At the church, John waved and greeted everyone with his brightest smile. He complimented the food and the ladies' dresses, volunteered to play with the children, led a discussion.  

But the more he listened, the more of a liar he felt. 

_You're lying to every single one of them, and you know it._

**_I don't like my mind right now_ **

**_stacking up problems that are so unnecessary..._ **

**_And I drive myself crazy, thinking everything's about me..._ **

**_I'm holding on..._ **

**_Why is everything so heavy?_ **

He reminded himself of Jesus dying on the cross, and the darker parts of his mind told him perhaps he had to die in a similar way just to cleanse himself.

He knew he'd die like a martyr for these people- Except the glory wasn't necessary. They were family, and oh did they deserve better.

**_You tell me to hold on_ **

**_Oh, you tell me to hold on_ **

He received many compliments.

"Such a precious boy, Mama would be so proud!"

"Here's the next generation of heroes for ya!"

"Henry must be so proud to have such an intelligent, compassionate son like you."

"Hold on, Jack. You're gonna do amazing things, just you wait."

**_But innocence is gone_ **

Love and betrayal in Geneva. A forbidden desire. A loss of faith.

A broken home.

**_And what was right is wrong_ **

John didn't want to lie and never truly liked lying. 

But he'd rather hurt himself than his family. 

He'd choose their happiness over his.

**_'Cause I'm bleeding out_ **

**_Said if the last thing that I do_ **

**_is bring you down_ **

**_I'll bleed out for you_ **

John was the poster-child of success. He was polite. He was compassionate. A gentleman. A dreamer.

But not ideal, no, if only they knew...

He bit his lip until he tasted blood. He scratched his arms until he saw blood. As time went on in his life, he wondered what would satisfy his urge to feel pain. He had an overwhelming desire to break something, to fight someone, to scream until there was nothing left of his voice. He became restless, impulsive, despite being known for his calmness. His brightness.

**_So I bear my skin_ **

**_and I count my sins_ **

**_and I close my eyes_ **

**_and I take it in_ **

That night he got on his knees and bowed his head in prayer, tears streaming against his face yet again.

_Please. You saved Mother and Jemmy. For them, and on behalf of everyone else... please, save me._

**_I'm bleeding out_ **

**_I'll bleed out for you_ **

"Oh, John," Martha said breathlessly with concern once she caught him surrounded by the shards of a broken vase, tears in his eyes and red marks up his arms. She gently touched him on the shoulder, and though he flinched he sought comfort in her blue eyes...So understanding, also wet with emotion. "Come here, love," she coaxed and he let her pull him in a long, loving embrace. "I'm here. You're not alone."

He didn't think he deserved her. But she was there for him, and she was the first person he didn't lie to. She heard his pain- eventually, she'd learn all of it. She didn't run away or cry with disgust, or yell at him. No, John knew, that wasn't Martha Manning. But she didn't pity him or try to help him "find his way" again. She supported him through thick and thin. She helped him.

"Emmy... I'm sorry."

"Shh, don't be. We're going to figure this out together, okay?"

_Together..._

It would take a lot, though, to heal him. She knew this, John knew this. Some of our greatest sorrows are the hardest to share or understand, and though we see the light it takes more than just one bask in the sun to remember that love is always around, if only we looked within.

* * *

 The only person John could recall ever truly understanding him in his youth was his mother, Eleanor Laurens. He looked a lot like her than his father and shared more of her interests and personality traits. She was so kind, warm, curious. She was okay with adventure. She was patient, optimistic, and a dreamer. No one could comfort John the way Eleanor had. She encouraged his studies in the arts and science whereas father would push him away from his wants.

 **_Love comes slow and it goes so fast_ **  
**_Well you see her when you fall asleep_ **  
**_But never to touch and never to keep_ **  
**_'Cause you loved her too much and you dive too deep_ **

"I don't understand," John said one day while he and Eleanor were out in the garden. He handed his mom a yellow jasmine flower. "Why does Father want me to be everything I'm not?"

Mother smiled cautiously. She patted John's head and took the flower gratefully. "John, you must understand it is what he thinks is best for the family. He was pressured by his dad, too, and family patterns... They're hard to break."

John considered this. "So I should stop my other lessons?"

"Oh, no." Eleanor took her son's hand. "Wouldn't you agree these lessons are home?"

John nodded.

"John, my dear, don't let anyone tell you who you should be. If you believe in something, chase after it, no matter how useless or insane it may seem. You are such a capable young boy, and I know deep down in this heart of mine that you will be one of the greatest. Years from now, our future generations will remember your name, and will remember it proudly. Do not forget who you are, son, I love you. Follow the stars."

She tucked the jasmine flower behind his ear and kissed his forehead. 

Years from then, her words still echoed in John's mind.

**_Can you give me a revelation?_ **

He blew out the candles on the cake father had bought the day before for the special occasion. He was outside, in mother's old garden, surrounded by the same jasmine flowers.

**_'Cause it gets a little hazy_ **

**_when you're swimming in the waters of tribulation_ **

John took a deep breath, eyes still closed. The feeling was different here, without mother. The garden was empty, yet her presence still lingered. The very scent of the flowers- so sickly sweet and alive- reminded John of her. So did the bright South Carolinian sun. His mother was known for being bright.

**_I gotta lot of voices telling me where I should and shouldn't be..._ **

**_All around me..._ **

He simply wished to hear her voice, or to feel her embrace, or just to hear her laugh. Sometimes he could swear he still could hear her voice whisper, _"That's right, Jack. Oh, I'm so proud of you."_

_Proud..._

**_Need all my stipulations_ **

**_to help me keep breathing_ **

**_in a world like a preservation_ **

He set the cake down, surrounded by patches of sunlight. He looked up as the wind blew his long hair in his face, praying to see some sign.

**_It's got me questioning my motivations_ **

John shivered. If mother could see him, what would she think?

**_I need to know if you're still here with me_ **

**_My eyes start to see the ways of the wicked and greedy_ **

**_...Will you remind me what I'm here to be?_ **

"Happy birthday, Mother. I love you. I won't forget..." His voice broke. "I won't forget you, nor your words. You're still the only one who truly has my heart, every piece of it. You made me feel like maybe I could be the change. But now... I am sorry to say I only feel as if I was born in the wrong place, at the wrong time. But I'm trying. For you, I'd live through this one million times over. You're worth it. I love you... I'm gonna try to make us all proud."

John turned to leave.

**_Oh, I just need you to hold on_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References:  
> "Sad Song" by The Cars  
> "Boy" by Lee Brice (thought I needed some Southern cred for John ok.. and tbh it's one of the few country songs I actually enjoy lmao)  
> "I Knew You Were Trouble" by Taylor Swift  
> "Bad Blood" by Taylor Swift (ha im sorry)  
> "Lies" by Marina and the Diamonds  
> "Wrecking Ball" by Miley Cyrus (this hurts)  
> "Battle Scars" by Lupe Fiasco and Guy Sebastian  
> "It's Quiet Uptown"  
> "Heavy" by Linkin Park ft. Kiara  
> "Bleeding Out" by Imagine Dragons  
> "Let Her Go" by Passenger  
> "Hold On" by Anthony Ramos himself (if you haven't heard it yet pleeeaasee do his voice is angelic)
> 
> I loooove reading about John's childhood and tried to make it as vivid as I could :) I'm still new at writing about Francis but I hope this can do for now. Side note: I barely see any good Martha Manning representation! I hope this did some justice. I am aware she wasn't really a key figure in regards to helping John but I like the idea. (It was originally in my modern AU. So I kept it.)
> 
> If you have any questions/suggestions please let me know! (Requests aren't likely since I already have this planned out, but still I am open to your thoughts.)


	2. an ocean away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Textbook version of a kid going nowhere fast_  
>  _Now I'm yelling "Kiss my ass..."_  
>  _...You realize you ain't really got it bad_  
>  _Then they'll say to me: "There goes a fighter,_  
>  _here comes a fighter..._  
>  _This one's a fighter."_  
>  *  
> We get insight into Alexander's early life and childhood. This chapter's slightly more plot-driven and specific than the first and I tried to keep up the motifs/character parallels :") Also warning (again) this gets... a lot sadder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel kind of insecure about how I wrote this chapter simply because this is my first actual writing regarding Alex's childhood. (it's bad enough Grammarly is so extra)  
> Feedback is always welcome! (I hope the French is okay.)
> 
> https://www.historytoday.com/richard-cavendish/birth-alexander-hamilton In case you want to learn more. Tells a little of Rachel Faucette Buck.

There are many forms of isolation in the world, and they all occur due to one of two things: Being held captive against your will or choosing to build that wall yourself, a mask to hide from the world's dangers. Either way, tragedy tinges both. And both, in this story, are presented and inevitable.

What better way to explain this than an island? They are beautiful, luxurious sites full of freedom and wonder. You are able to bask in the sun, look up at an open sky and feel the sand and wind blissfully caress your skin. You may follow the shoreline and splash the warm water, and your heart may tell you that you're okay.

 But islands are, in fact, isolated. Surrounded by the waves, which can either calm your soul or drown you without any mercy, or your own consent. The Caribbean island of Nevis was no exception, and Rachel Faucette was only one to discover this truth.

After fleeing from a loveless marriage and being released from jail, Rachel had no love for St. Croix, another one of the Caribbean's many islands. She instead started her new life on St. Kitts, Nevis's next door neighbor. She met her new lover, James Hamilton. and eventually had two children, both considered "illegitimate": James, Jr., and Alexander. Her relationship with James was short-lived, however. He left to prevent her from having charges against her for having sexual intercourse with him while still married to her previous husband.

**_I want to hide the truth_ **

**_I want to shelter you_ **

**_but with the beast inside_ **

**_there's nowhere we can hide_ **

"We cannot let our legacy be burdened and tinged with regret," James had said. "Rachel... Bigamy charges-"

"-Shouldn't be enough to keep you from your own children," Rachel interrupted, her loose red hair falling from her messy bun. She narrowed her sky blue eyes angrily. "At least _meet_ them. I've been in _jail_ already. I've had to move multiple times just to keep _myself_ sane. I want to provide my dears with a life I couldn't have..." She choked on her tears. "Does it look like I want to explain why Daddy is never home? Why he left? Why we both have no family to help provide for their needs?" She paused for effect, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. She coldly eyed him. "I didn't think so."

**_No matter what we breed_ **

**_We're still all made of greed_ **

James sighed. "I want to be there for them... I really do." He squeezed her hands. "How can they see me as their father, Rachel, if I'm going to do nothing but harm us financially?"

"Either way we're broke." Rachel snatched her hands away. 

James had to leave, so he did. Rachel was left yet again to fend for herself, but eventually found a job working at a store. 

**_This is my kingdom come..._ **

"I promise, my babies," she'd tell her children. "Mama's going to take good care of you, don't you worry." 

After every fight and argument with father, every tearful question from her children, Rachel would find herself seeking comfort in the warm breezes outside their little home with the night sky to guide her. "Please," she'd pray, "If not me, save my children. Give them something that'll guarantee a future, a wealthier and a safer one I simply cannot afford." She bowed her head again, wrapping her arms around her scrawny frame due to a sudden chill. " _Please_."

She worked the extra hours. Deep down she knew it wasn't enough.

**_Just another dressed up heartbreak_ **

**_God, save the queen_**...

**_Turn those tears to diamonds in your crown_ **

A tired, timid voice asked "Mama?" and Rachel turned around to see a small boy with the same delicate, lean features and fiery red hair as her own.

"Alexander," she said, face softening while she quickly wiped away her tears. "It's late, why aren't you in bed with James?"

Alex wrung his hands nervously and buried his head in his mother's side, concerned. "Why are you crying, Mama?"

Rachel's heart broke. She couldn't protect them from the truth forever. "Oh, sweetie," she cooed, running a hand through the child's messy, long hair while the other pulled him closer by the nape of his neck. "Mama will be fine, I promise. I just need... to clear my head."

"Is this about Father? Or keeping our home?" Alex looked up at her, eyes brighter with the moon reflecting off his irises.

**_All the shine of a thousand spotlights_ **

**_All the stars that we stole from the night sky_ **

Another tear slid down Rachel's cheek. "You don't have to worry about a thing." She kissed his forehead. "Come, we must get sleep."

**_Will never be enough_ **

_I promise..._

* * *

 It's not that the pain of not knowing his father always haunted Alexander. Not even the fact that, okay, maybe they were, in fact, less... _affluent_ than what could have been. Yes, it was concerning that they were often sick and scrambling to get what they needed. Yes, mother cried. 

But that was okay. They were going to be okay. 

Alex believed this wholeheartedly.

"Mama!" He'd call as a child, rushing to her as she held her head in her hands in despair, surrounded by paperwork. "Cheer up, Mama," he said while smoothing her red hair. "I believe in you, you're the strongest and nicest mommy to ever walk the shore! You can do it, I know you can!"

Rachel would smile, with worry lines and tear lines visible on her pale face. "I know, sweetie, thank you." She would urge him away. "Check up on your brother."

Alex frowned but did what his mother told him. He sensed her pain, but James seemed quite oblivious.

"I don't see why we have to be by ourselves," he'd huff as he climbed the nearest tree. "Mama ain't that busy, is she?"

Alex shrugged. He knew of mother's problems, and it felt like a secret between herself and him. So he copied what Rachel did: Bend the truth. "She's just tired, is all. Grown-ups have a lot to worry about."

"Such as?"

"Financials...and stuff."

James narrowed his eyes, crossing his legs on the tree branch. "What do you know about financials?"

_More than you think._ "I, uh, help Mama sometimes."

"Alright. What'cha waitin' for? Follow me, and hurry!"

Alex quickly climbed the tree, losing his footing a few times before he made it up. "James... Do you ever think about Father?"

James frowned. "No. Why would I? He left."

Alex couldn't find a logical retort, so he shrugged it off. "I just wanted to know."

In truth, he thought about father from time to time. He couldn't help it. He was curious and observant, and one thing he learned was that most families had both a Mama and a Dad. When Rachel took the kids to church (which only happened because they'd catch up with fellow local residents and the news) Alex saw many whole families. With fathers and mothers alike. _We're not...whole._

"Okay." He tagged Alex suddenly, resulting in the other boy to yelp and snap out of his daydreams. "Catch me!"

Alex rolled his eyes but grinned. "You're not fair, you know that?"

"You're just not paying attention."

James may have been stronger, but Alex was faster. "We'll see!"

That spirit of jumping around and trying to find stability followed Alex all throughout his life. He considered himself lucky that he learned to run at all, and used it as an advantage. A _facade..._ They were, in fact, isolated.

**_Run, run, lost_ _boy_**

**_Away from reality_ **

**_Believe in him,_ _believe_ _in me_ **

**_Fly away... to your beautiful destiny_ **

* * *

Days passed with adventures and play fighting all the time. That was the way of life. It was the only thing that could calm Alex's restless nerves and endless amount of energy. Chores were also common ("Mama's a little tired, would you two dears take over for a few minutes?"), and so was saying daily prayers.

 "If we're not religious," Alex spoke up one day at dinner, "then why must we pray?"

 "You talk too much," James muttered teasingly, but Rachel simply smiled. "You bring up a good point, Alexander. I ask us to pray not because it is required, even necessary. I simply think it may bring us luck. You can never be too careful around here, you know? Besides, it gives us a sense of hope."

 After a few moments of thinking, Alex asked: "Do you think we can pray for Father?"

 Rachel was silent for too long. "Yes... I suppose we could." She set her plate down, eyes glassy. "He is in our hearts. I think..." _Breath in, breathe out._ "...That'd be enough."

 She was extra silent for the rest of the day. At night, Alex snuggled closer to her and gently shook her awake.

 "Mama?"

She opened her eyes, softly smiling at her son. "Yes, dear?"

"Have I..." He glanced around nervously. "Have I made you angry?"

"Angry?" She repeated, sitting up and pulling Alex onto her lap. "Why would you think that?"

"You didn't speak to me for the rest of the day." The candlelight made it obvious that tears welled up in his eyes. "I'm sorry I mentioned Papa, Mama... I just... I don't understand why he's just... gone."

"Oh, Alex..." She wiped away his tears. "I am not angry with you. I'm angry with _Father_ ," she admitted. "But we are going to be okay. He left to... to protect us." She paused. "Alexander, remember that story I read to you a few weeks ago? The one with the family?"

"Yes, Mama," he said, still choking back his sobs.

"The little boy ran away, yes?"

Alex nodded.

"You see, humanity does this weird thing where we do the wrong things for the right reasons, such as when the little boy left to find his missing dog and ended up robbing that innocent old lady, in the story, yes?" Her voice was soft and soothing as she continued: "This is the same with Father. Was he completely right? No. Did he want to leave us and cause us pain? Heavens, no." She cradled Alex in her arms. "The point is, Alex, the world is going to be terrible. The world is going to test you and force you to fight every single day if necessary. But you know what?" She leaned in closer. "The biggest droughts make room for the sweetest waters. And the deadliest storms create the most beautiful rainbows."

Alex smiled and hugged his mother tightly.

"You know... Father would be proud of you." 

Alex's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yes," Rachel said breathlessly. "You have his eyes and a light tone of ginger hair like himself. You're both dreamers at heart, both so willing." She leaned in once more. "But you'll always be Mama's boy; We're both so damn stubborn."

Alex giggled and began to braid Rachel's hair. "That's good. 'Cause when I grow up, I wanna be just like you."

"When you grow up..." She poked Alex on the nose with a cheerful _boop_. "I want you to be just like _you_."

Alex smiled. "I'm proud of us."

"Same here," Rachel said with a genuine smile. "You're gonna be one heck of a legacy."

**_Legacy..._ **

**_What is a legacy?_ **

"You're so smart, Mama."

"You are too, dear."

"Read to me?" He asked, excited.

"Of course."

Their reading time was like a ritual. Every day Rachel read to her children and made sure they had at least some time to review their studies (even as a poor family they valued education), even if it meant Alex had to force James. He was, after all, the more curious and willing. She'd sit in her designated chair nearest to the window, the sunshine making an aura of light around herself which greatly highlighted her red hair. 

Then finally all was peaceful. They could almost believe they were also among the fantastic worlds of magic and courageous heroes, and that perhaps they weren't that isolated after all.

* * *

Of course, sometimes the hardships the small family faced were much more noticeable.

"Come, dears," Rachel would sometimes say when she woke up tremendously early, throwing on her thin, worn out coat. "We need to go to the marketplace. Alexander, wake up your brother for me while I pack." There was barely anything to actually pack, but Alex obeyed.

These were the more exciting days where they got to go into town, surrounded by locals they barely knew and items they dreamed of affording one day. The only downside would be the fact that sometimes they'd stand in line for a whole hour, and for restless children such as Alex and James, this could be a great burden. To pass time, the two brothers would make up stories about the sketchy looking customers or play tag. They'd duck behind stations and run off, risking getting yelled at by the other impatient adults.

Rachel warned them that getting in trouble for mischevious behavior was quite easy in their town. "You can have fun," she'd say, "but don't go too far off where I can't see you, and don't bump into anyone!"

The first few times the boys innocently weaved their way throughout the marketplace, climbing the occasional tree. But after awhile Alex began noticing that some of the adults were a lot more sketchier than they appeared. Once, while James was trying to pull a harmless prank on an elder who'd fallen asleep, Alex overheard a conversation between a salesman and a darker-skinned customer.

"I told ya, if you cannot pay the price you simply cannot shop here!"

"Sir," the older man begged, "The marketer made himself very clear: The price you offer now is twice as much as what the original-"

"I don't care," the salesman snapped, pointing ahead. "Get out, and _good day_ , sir! You are allowed to make a complaint but as far as I'm concerned your discount is decreased by thirty. Out with yourself!"

Alex took pity as the older man limped away. 

" _Psst_! Alex," James whispered from behind. "Are you helping or not?"

He'd forgotten about his brother's shenanigans. "I'll be right there."

"What? Where are you going!? Mother said- _Alex_ -" But he had already walked away, to the salesman.

"U-um, excuse me sir?"

The man looked around, confused.

"Down here, sir."

The man looked down and raised an eyebrow, considering Alex. "Pfft, what d'ya want, kid? Don't you have someone watchin' you or something?"

"Er... yes..." Alex forced himself to speak. He couldn't let this man see how much he got to him. "What was that man wanting?"

"Hmm? Oh, the elderly? Just now?"

Alex nodded.

The man glared. "Just wanted a discount on fruit. Why? A small, ignorant child like you has no business here. Go run off."

Alex frowned. "Aren't discounts permitted?"

The man blinked several times as if he couldn't believe a child was questioning his own job. "Um-"

"Because I know the location in which he was originally trying to buy those fruits. He was right; the price you just gave him was, in fact, twice the amount as the price given from _that_ station-" Alex pointed, "-over _there_ , with that gentleman. Isn't it against the rules to falsify the given prices of items? The only reason for you to do that is if you're using the authorized goods for personal gain, which is, you know, illegal." Alex paused, now smug (he chose not to show it on the outside). "Does your boss know that you waved off a customer that rightfully tried to buy a simple case of fruit? Are you that low enough to cheat people out like that?"

At first, his speech was due to his own curiosity. Now he knew the actual fraud committed and was angry. People always used the weak and poor as an advantage, and even as an "ignorant" child, Alex could see the wrong in that.

However, his victory was short-lived. "Listen, kid," he snapped. "I don't know who you think you are or where you come from-"

"I'm from Nevis, sir, and my name is Alexander Hamilton," Alex interrupted, proudly.

"-but no stupid kid is going to tell me how to do my job. Look around, you see that? Yeah. It's called _business_. Sometimes you gotta lie to make that profit, you know? It's survival of the fittest. You wouldn't understand."

Several things about the man's retort angered Alex.

First: _No one_ calls Alexander stupid.

Second: No one waves Alexander off like that.

Third: Maybe this man had a family of his own. Maybe that's why he had to lie, to cheat... Maybe he was like Father. Mama did say that sometimes humanity did the wrong things for the right reasons. But still, he completely turned down an innocent man who may have also been poor and starving and _always taken advantage of_ and _always ignored_.

Before logic could change his mind, he remembered his mother crying and struggling financially, praying for a miracle. No. Alex couldn't support it. People like this guy who thought they were all high and mighty had to learn. They had to be taken down.

"You apologize to this man and give him what he needs. Or I'm going to tell your boss, or report you! And I _am not stupid_."

"Ha! If my boss can't punish me, neither can you, kid. Go run off somewhere."

"No," Alex said stubbornly.

" _What_?"

" _No_."

"Hmph. Fine." The man made his way over to Alex. "Then I'll make you." 

He tried to grab Alex's wrist, but Alex was quicker; he rolled over and quickly got to his feet. He was much more scared than he'd like to admit.

"D-don't touch me! Get _off_." He fell and scraped his leg but managed to kick the man's hands away.

The man yelped, followed by a growl. "That's it, kid. Once I'm done with you-"

"ALEX!" James yelled. "The prank didn't work so I think I'm gonna-WOAH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? RUN!"

They sprinted away, and even when the man was out of sight they didn't stop, even if their legs were aching and Alex's knee was bleeding from his previous fall. The two boys easily out ran their chaser and eventually paused in the very front of the marketplace, panting.

"What were you thinking?" James scolded, seemingly perfecting the glare after Alex himself continuously used it on the former when mother couldn't.

Alex didn't know how to answer. Usually so calculating, how come he allowed himself to be such a fool? How come he resorted to feelings over his mind? He meant well, but the possible punishments... Who knows? What would have happened if James was caught, too, and Alex wasn't there to help... How does one explain that?

Alex slumped over, hands on his knees. A sudden wave of guilt when rushed through him as he remembered... "Wait... where's mother?"

"Don't change the subject! You nearly got beat by that-"

"I'm serious! _James_." He grabbed his brother by the collar. " _Where's mother_?"

He swallowed. "Um..."

Alex let out a frustrated sigh and called "Mama!" multiple times. When there came no responses, just the confused and irritated looks from the locals, they resorted to calling out her full name. Then they switched to French, hoping that maybe she'd hear how serious and worried they were. Nothing.

It felt like hours. James got scared and began to weep. Just to appear strong in front of his brother, he ignored his own tears and shushed him. "Don't cry! We're going to find her, she wouldn't leave us by ourselves, she couldn't be too far..."

As time passed, the place became more empty. This was relieving because they'd have more of chance spotting their mother, but terrifying simply because the lack of people made the location much more spacious, and therefore the children kept taking wrong turns and doubting the direction they headed in. When Alex was just about to give up and curl up in a ball and sob himself, a voice asked "Kids? Dears? Alexander, James... Mère's here..."

The two boys sprang up and immediately caught sight of that familiar red hair and small frame. They ran up to her and hugged at her waist, sobbing while saying "I promise we'll never do it again" and "I know we were very naughty, please forgive us, we were looking all over..." until Rachel interrupted them with a gentle "shush" and a pat on the back.

"Come. It is late."

Alex noticed the tears, perhaps before she did.

* * *

The walk home was silent, and even upon entering the door no one was in the mood to explain themselves.

"Dears, check once more to see if the cabinets are all cleared," Rachel said, putting down the goods she'd bought. At least she didn't seem angry...

Alex and James did so and helped her put everything away. Satisfied, Rachel gave her children a tired smile. "Alright, boys. One heck of an adventure today, eh? Go clean up," she urged them. "If you want I can read you two a story before I make dinner."

Alex was too tired, so he gave that a pass. James did the same and the brothers curled up on their mattresses, ready for a break after such a tiring, frantic day. Rachel glanced worriedly at them but allowed them to rest. "It shouldn't take too long," she whispered, kissing their foreheads and tucking them in.

James easily went to sleep and began to snore. Alex, however, couldn't help but feel defeat. He could've done more to help the elderly man, or perhaps to get the salesman in trouble. Perhaps he should've been there for mother, in case she was getting cheated too. Clutching the blankets, he thoughts angrily of how cowardly he'd been acting. His family was broke and needed help. What had he done? Yell at a worker, got James and himself so close to getting caught, got lost in the marketplace, scared mother half to death...

He glanced at James. Peacefully sleeping. Not a worry in the world. So, _so_ oblivious. So vulnerable. He turned to hold his brother while he slept. They needed to remind themselves they at least still had each other.

All is good. They were going to be okay.

* * *

 "Alexander," Rachel said softly after she sat the table. "You haven't slept." She tilted her head in concern. "Yet I know you're tired... you've bags under your eyes. Are you okay?"

"Mama, is it true that we are powerless?" Alex asked instead.

Rachel frowned. "What do you mean, 'powerless'?"

"I mean..." Alex took a deep breath and sat up. "We're on an island."

"That is correct."

"Yes, and most people don't live on islands."

"...I suppose this is true, yes."

"Does that have anything to do with our...power?"

"Socially?"

Alex nodded.

Rachel wrung her hands timidly. Perhaps that is who Alex got it from. "...Alexander, there will always be those who are considered 'weak' and 'useless' as opposed to the wealthy and...well, powerful." She paused, eyes searching nothing in particular as if her mind wandered to another reality. "This often has something to do with money...among other things-"

Alex immediately thought of the dark-skinned elderly. "You mean like race?"

Rachel blinked, and slowly a smile spread across her face.

"Mama, why must you smile, this isn't funny..."

"Oh!" She said suddenly. "No, no, it's not, it's just... Alexander, sometimes I wonder how old that mind of yours is. You're so bright, you know? Yes, you are precisely right. My baby boy already knows the ropes of this world, more or less..."

"Is this why Miss Turner left a few years ago?"

"Well... I suppose, yes, that had to do with it."

"Money has to do with the economy, so therefore government..." Alex said, more of an afterthought. "And economies decide the fate of businesses, which make the economy. So... governments can just alter everything, can't they? They can make the powerful weak and the weak..." He didn't finish. What was the word? Nonexistent? Invisible?

Rachel laughed. Alex thought she didn't do that enough. "Why are we having this conversation?"

Alex bit his lip, considering telling her about the incident. "James and I were late because- well, it was my fault..."

Rachel's smile disappeared.

"...b-because I was being stubborn, and nosey... and... well this guy- a marketer- was cheating this...other man." Alex paused. "He didn't deserve it. I tried to f-fix it, and..." He trailed off, but Rachel was to the rescue.

"Alexander, what you did was a beautiful thing I think poorer citizens like us oughta do more often. We need to be there for each other if we truly want anything to succeed. That goes for the government, too." She sat beside the small mattress James and Alex were sharing. "The world's always been broken, and it will continue to be that way. That's why we need intelligent, loving children such as yourself." She began tickling him and Alex immediately shrieked, waking James.

"Wha's goin' on?" he asked drowsily.

Rachel chuckled. "Waking my two pickneys up for dinner. Come now, we don't want to eat cold food."

As they walked to the table, Alex grabbed his mom's hand and whispered "I think when I grow up I want to make the economy better," so shyly yet determined.

Rachel smiled and ruffled his ginger hair. "I believe you'll change the world one day, Alex."

* * *

It was already established that Alex got a lot of things from his mother. The hair, the stubbornness, that natural sense of change, the nervous tics, the habit of rubbing one's temple when stressed. Alex's love of reading and writing also came from his mother, for she read to them often and wrote a lot of things down so she could remember them (even when it was unnecessary). Alex learned she even wrote for _fun_ sometimes when he caught her writing in her notebook one summer afternoon. It had been a short, sweet story about two children that awfully reminded Alex of himself and James.

Alex smiled when discovering this. "I have the smartest mommy in all of Nevis," he bragged.

Rachel would blush. "Is that so?"

He found himself writing a lot, too. Mostly for his studies, but sometimes he'd write down his random thoughts and questions about the world around him, along with notes of discoveries (even if they were quite simple).

**_As a child, you would wait_ **

**_and watch from far away_ **

Some of his kid peers he'd occasionally play with all thought he was quite odd with his curious, talkative personality. He'd go on and on about things they didn't quite understand, leaving Alex embarrassed and bored with their stupid teasing and taunts. He couldn't understand them. They truly had no sense of the world; they were oblivious to their own problems. ( _Heck! We're all basically broke!_ )

**_But you always knew that you'd be the one_ **

**_to work while they all play_ **

So he simply stopped paying too much attention to them. He continued observing, learning and studying at such a restless pace. Rachel sometimes had to hide his own notebooks in fear of him spending too much time away from social time and self-care necessities such as eating. When he'd complain, she'd simply say: "Now, dear, we already don't have a lot that others may have in other parts of the world, Alex. Please, make the most of the little we _do_ have and take a break."

Alex would feel guilty straight afterward but always continued his habit, especially nights after these when there was so much on his mind.

**_In youth, you'd lay awake at night and scheme_ **

**_of all the things that you would change_ **

Alex took out his notebook, flipped to a clear page, and wrote down every single thought and question that concerned his next topic of focus: Economy. He had diagrams, arrows, charts, hypothetical solutions and alternative options regarding the economy he both witnessed and read about multiple times. He muttered to himself, hand going a mile a minute, flying off the page while Alex continued his sloppy cursive writing (though he'd been improving quite steadily).

"What'cha doin'?" James interrupted suddenly.

Alex jumped so hard he stabbed himself with his pen. " _Ouch_ ," he hissed before glaring at his brother. "Why'd you do that?"

James shrugged. "You looked scary just talking to yourself and writing so... harshly."

"I'm kind of busy."

"What does it say?" James peeked over Alex's shoulder. 

Alex sighed in defeat and handed the notebook to James. "Just...ideas."

James frowned, eyes darting over the first few sentences. "Yeah. I don't know what half of this even is."

"That's okay. You wouldn't understand."

James huffed. "Then explain it to me, genius."

"Well..." Alex took a deep breath. "I'm planning possible ideas for... you know, economy stuff. For the future."

"Is this about what happened today?"

Alex bit his lip. Was he being accused? Judged? "Um... a little."

"Alex, you're a kid."

"So're you," Alex said defensively.

"You really don't think you can actually change something so beyond our control, do ya?"

Yes. He wondered about that. All. The. Damn. Time.

Alex's hand tightened around his notebook after he pulled it back. "I'm not stupid," he muttered underneath his breath.

"What?" James asked.

" _I'm not stupid_."

There was a stretch of silence.

"I... never you said you were."

"No, but you truly think we're powerless?"

"Well..." James thought for a moment. "I- I mean, we're not... _that_... powerful."

_No_ , Alex thought. _But we will be. You can bet on that._

**_There's a million things I haven't done_ **

**_but just you wait, just you wait..._ **

* * *

Illness wasn't uncommon. Quite the opposite, actually, given their location's position. In fact, James and Alexander were sick quite often- nothing serious to impact their lives, at least- so when Rachel fell sick too there wasn't much surprise. She already suffered from migraines constantly, so at first, her slow, tired behavior didn't faze her children.

"It's okay," Alex encouraged, for she had done the same for him his whole life. "It'll pass by tomorrow, I'm sure. James and I will take care of you." Together the boys held her cold hands and guided her small frame to her designated mattress and sat a cold rag on her pale face.

"Thank you, dears," she said. "Stay inside. If you get hungry, Mama can't cook today but we should have plenty in the cabinets."

When the boys got bored, Alex simply took Rachel's role and read to them both until they, too, were sleepy. When Alex woke up he checked on mother again, just to frown because her head was _still_ hot and she was still out cold. He let her rest, though, and when she woke up finally later in the night he and James had dinner ready for her.

"Oh, dears," she said graciously, "thank you, thank you..."

When she didn't eat enough, the boys stayed to encourage her even though they were extremely exhausted. "C'mon, Mama," James said. "Just a few more bites. You need the energy."

"I will...just give me a second," she said in a hoarse voice.

Alex frowned and held her hand. "I believe in you."

Rachel smiled and managed to finish her plate. "Now, go off to bed, little ones. I'll be fine. I promise."

The next day came and she still hadn't healed.

"No problem," Alex reassured James. "This is common. I say in a week she shall be better again!"

The cycle of taking care of Rachel continued for a week and a half. She still wasn't better.

"Oh, Mama," James cried. "You're so pale and weak! We've done everything we could, oh, are you going to be okay?"

"James, sweetie, look at me," Rachel urged and held him in her lap. "Mama's fine. I admit, this is strange, but we've always healed together, have we not? It is all the same as the previous times. Right, Alexander?" She looked at him with pleading eyes. She trusted him to be optimistic.

Instead, Alex burst out crying. Rachel, shocked, whispered gently "Oh, hon... Come here. Mama's got you." She easily cradled both her sons in her arms, despite the fact that they should've been too big for her by now, being about twelve years old. But they still easily fit into Rachel's side. 

Slowly, their food began to diminish. They all became increasingly hungry.

"No problem," Rachel said shakily. "I'll write to Miss Turner. She's close enough to make her way down here, I'm sure. She can watch you guys, too, for I'm so weak... Alexander, grab me some paper, dear."

When Rachel could barely hold the pen long enough to write her letter, Alex wrote it instead and signed it with Rachel's name. "We're going to be okay," he repeated. "We're going to be fine... Mama will heal and everything will be normal soon."

He didn't catch Rachel's sad smile.

* * *

Miss Turner proved herself useful, but couldn't stay.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," she said, holding Rachel's hand. "I'd love to stay and watch your little pickneys and such...but alas I am needed elsewhere. Do you want me to try and find you someone else?"

Rachel's lips looked unnaturally thin as her brow furrowed in concentration. "There is someone who may be able to watch them..." Out of nowhere, Rachel started to gag and cough.

"Oh, you poor thing!" Miss Turner cried. "I wish I could repay you for when you've helped me when I was so new to this island..." She passed Rachel some water. "Who is this person you're needing to communicate to?"

"Peter...Peter Lytton. The boys' cousin."

Miss Turner nodded. "Anything for you, Miss Faucette."

Alex and James overheard everything. James mouthed _Peter?_ and Alex simply shrugged.

"Boys," Rachel called weakly. "Please come here."

The brothers jumped but obeyed their mother's wish. "Boys," she said, "Miss Turner cannot stay but I will be letting Peter, your cousin, know that if anything were to happen..." She paused, looking down mournfully. "...he is to take care of you."

Alex and James nodded solemnly, and Miss Turner gave them sympathetic looks.

"Poor boys. You're so lucky to have a mother like Miss Faucette here." She gave her friend a small smile. "I can try to get a doctor."

Rachel looked pained. "Do you think perhaps it'll be too costly?" Her fragile voice made Alex and James's heart break in concern.

"I'm not sure, love, but we can try..."

James shyly hugged the other woman. "Thanks for trying," he said, voice muffled.

Miss Turner laughed. "Anything for an honorable woman's children."

Alex smiled for the first time all week and hugged Miss Turner too.

"Now, now," she said good-naturedly. "Your mother is the one you should coddle! Now, I must leave, but take care, dears. I believe you are all to be okay."

_I hope so too._

* * *

Rachel seemed to get worse and worse by the days. Alex tried to stay strong for everyone but would often sneak away to cry. 

_Mama needs to get better. She doesn't deserve this. Oh, if there really is a God out there, please help her! Take me instead, if it is so needed..._

He had to repeat _Mama is strong and brave, Mama can get through this._ But she was so pale. She already lost weight. She slept so much. 

_She has to be okay_ , Alex thought, swallowing back a sob. _We will be okay._

James cried, too. "Mama! Mama, can you hear me?"

"Yes, dear," Rachel said with a slight chuckle. She held his shaking hand. "Mama is okay."

Alex made his way over, too. "Dears," Rachel then said, "do you want me to sing to you?"

The boys nodded.

**_There are moments that the words don't reach_ **

She managed a few verses of a sweet melody Alex and James remembered from years of being around Rachel, though they never truly knew the whole song. Despite this, when Rachel began to gag and cough and cry so openly they hummed the rest of the song and held her hand.

_Mama has never been this defeated._

_**There is suffering too terrible to name** _

"I love you, Mama," James said, hugging her.

"I love you too, dear."

Alex sniffled, wiping away tears. "I-I love you t-too, Mama. You're s-so strong, I know you can m-make it..."

Rachel held him tightly.

**_You hold your child as tight as you can..._ **

"Thank you, dear. Shh, I know, I know... I love you too, Alexander, I know- Shh, I know, I know..."

**_The moments when you're in so deep..._ **

**_And learn to live with the unimaginable_ **

They breathed in. They breathed out. They were going through the unimaginable, but they were going to be okay.

_I promise._

* * *

Alexander woke up extremely early. James and himself hadn't left their mother's side.

At first, the boys were too numb to properly start their day, but they were hit with a sudden panic as they heard Rachel's cries begging for her children.

"Shh, Mama," Alex said, voice shaking. "We're here, we're here." He held her hand. "We're here."

Rachel calmed, but she was alert when Alex started gagging and coughing too.

"Oh, no... Alex, are you okay?"

"Y-yes...I think."

But he had fallen ill too. Perhaps it was inevitable; their destinies were bound to be the same.

Poor Jemmy tried his best not panic as the last of his remaining family (his only _true_ family, that is) both coughed and gagged and ran high temperatures. "I don't know what to do!" he cried. Alex, with more energy than Rachel, consoled him. He grabbed his brother's hand, which was almost affectionate if his grip wasn't so tight. "Now, look here," Alex said. "You're strong and you can help us; it is not too late for all of us to improve. Stop crying and get to work, Jemmy."

His brother nodded and remained quiet for the rest of the day (minus his gentle reassurances from time to time). but he eventually ran out of stamina and sniffled remorsefully. "I-I'm sorry," he said. "I can't do this- we need an actual nurse-"

"You are brave!" Alex insisted. "You can do it; you've been doing well so far. You mustn't give up! Here, look, we believe in you."

_We're going to be okay._

Alex felt feverish and weak but he repeated it to himself and, when needed, to Rachel, whose mind was as restless as ever. Quite similar to Alex, he had to admit. Perhaps that confirmed their shared fate... yet it would prove false. They wouldn't get the same fate, and Alex would later call it the _wrong_ fate. The _switched_ fate. The fate he truly didn't deserve, and he would end up surviving his illness and poverty. He'd survive the undoing of his own mind...

...for now.

However, it's Rachel's story too. And sadly, it was short-lived.

Jemmy was asleep. Alexander was too, until he woke up extremely early. The sky still too dark but dawn was clearly approaching the calm island, and Alex yawned. He recalled Rachel telling him to wake her up when he did so they could be together. Alex didn't understand what she had meant but obviously he wouldn't obey his mother's wishes.

His eyes tried to adjust to the dark, trying to survey his mother's (probably pale) face. When that wasn't met in avail, he tried his best to light a candle, fumbling with the match. Luckily, he succeeded without hurting himself and glanced over at Rachel. Loose strands of dark red hair still covered her face. She looked almost ghostly in the candlelight, and he thought offhandedly that she looked too still. He climbed back in bed and shook Rachel, whispering "Mother?"

Her breathing was shallow.

Alex's eyes darted over her face. "Mother?"

She gasped slightly, pulling Alex tighter into her arms. "Alexander..." she choked.

He gasped himself, feeling her weakening heartbeat. "M-Mother?" he asked, uncertain, voice shaking.

She forced a smile, her eyes already glassy. "My love, Alexander..."

Her solemn voice told him everything. "M-Mom! Mom...d-don't.... I- what-"

"Shh... it's okay," she choked, "You're going to be okay. I promise, Mama's right here-"

Alex sobbed and hugged her, forcing his words out. "Mama, no, you're so strong, you can make it through this- I believe in you!"

Her hands combed through his messy hair one last time. "I love you, Alexander," he said breathlessly. "Alexander..."

Her breath hitched. Her arms were still wrapped around Alex's tiny frame protectively- _lovingly_ \- before all her breath was gone; her pulse nonexistent; her body truly still now.

Alex choked on his sobs. He couldn't do anything to save her, to make her come back. He couldn't protect her. He could only face the reality. Rachel Faucette was dead. She was gone. _And she had died in his arms._

After what felt like an eternity, Alex could no longer make any sound with his sore throat. No tears were left to drown his sorrows away. He couldn't save her, but he could still honor her. Faithfully, he remained in his mother's arms, holding her like she had done all his life, kissing her as if she was only resting and she'd wake soon to pat his head again, hold him close, reassure him, read to him, simply _be there_ for him. This was the least he could do for her now, a silent ode of respect and love and guilt.

He blew out the candle. If Rachel couldn't be as lively as the flame, well, the flame didn't deserve to burn. The world had no right to view Rachel in that light for it was cruel and heartless enough to take her away from him. He rested, surrounded by darkness, with no body warmth or heartbeat to rely on. Closing his eyes, he could believe he'd die too and hopefully see mother again in Heaven- yes, that is what she deserved. _Heaven_. Where she didn't have to worry about being poor, or her own children dying, or Father, or the powerful and wealthy taking more and more every day. No, she's at peace now. She deserves to be among the brightest suns, the brightest stars, and the most colorful rainbow.

_She's going to be okay..._

Exhaustion ruled out every emotion and piece of logic Alex had left. He slept, surrounded by darkness in his mother's arms.

* * *

The brothers now had to live with their cousin, Peter Lytton. Death refused to banish itself from Alex's life, however, and Alex could sense that some of the pain wasn't over beforehand. Jemmy was affected too, but still had the emotion in him, whereas Alex had never been so numb. But it came back to him. Peter committed suicide a little after Rachel's own death, and Alex was abandoned once more. Jemmy and he had to go their separate ways, and once again he was deprived of his family. He could never recall exactly why.

Naturally, the numbness came back too.

But he became lucky- if you can even say that after everything- and managed to find a living space and even a job in both St. Croix and Antigua. He became unofficially the second son of a merchant named Thomas Stevens who happened to know Peter, and therefore heard about his death and therefore took Alex in after the tragedy. A lot of Rachel's items were auctioned off (which pissed off Alex tremendously) but Alex managed to keep all thirty-four books the household has owned. It was the last piece of his mother he had. He'd be damned if someone were to take that away, too.

Stevens tried to coax him to talk when they first met. He gestured at the boxes he helped Alex recover, all full of the books from his childhood. "This yours?"

Alex nodded. He flinched when Stevens spoke and kept his distance.

"Alexander-" (the boy winced upon hearing his name from this stranger's mouth) "-I am aware you know that you're staying here for a bit, right?"

Alex nodded. He was told the plan shortly after his mother's items were auctioned off... He was to stay with Stevens until (and if) another home could be provided, if Alex wished so. At least he had _someone_... That is not to say, however, these folks were to be trusted, Alex thought painfully. He considered running again, but where to? That'd only make matter worse. It was useless.

"Right. I'm gonna take good care of you. Rachel seemed sweet enough. I do owe your boy Peter anyways, naturally," he said with a chuckle. "I don't see much resemblance, though, except I hear you looked quite like your mother."

Alex bit the inside of his cheek, uncomfortable. _What could he possibly know about Mama?_

He couldn't just trust people he didn't know.

After a while, however, once he adjusted to his new home, life wasn't too bad. Already having a background in economics, he served his purpose well by helping Stevens (whom he simply called Tom after they became decently close) with his merchant career. Stevens taught him how to be more articulate and savvy around customers, and over time developed his signature witty, eloquent and charismatic personality. He even continued his studies, having particular interest in other languages, which was shared with Edward Stevens (Tom's son). In fact, the boys got along well. They shared many interests and opinions and even looked quite alike.

He could never truly get close to anyone, however. He learned not to do so after all the death and cheating he witnessed. In fact, his charisma around people in town who stopped by to trade was nothing more than a facade and a way to distract himself from the growing anger and bitterness he felt every single day. As long as Alex lived in the Caribbean, mother never left his thoughts and haunted him frequently. 

Though grateful he now had some sort of father figure, he knew it still wasn't enough to satisfy him. Father didn't want him. Why would Tom want him? Every time he looked at Tom, he saw Father. Every time he looked at Edward, he saw Jemmy.

And their both gone. Oceans away- If the length between Heaven and Earth could be measured by oceans, so vast and deep and dangerous. Quite similar to death, promoting both oppression and isolation. Just like an island.

_Never be enough._

He learned to push back these thoughts. He carried on, like Rachel had done. He had to remain strong, keep his composure. 

* * *

 Tragedy has no mercy. When you think nothing else could go wrong, life smacks you with a reality check. Odd how endless chains of death and sorrow aren't just apparent in fairytales placed in dystopian context but also everyday life- And not the misfortunes you're used to, the ones that are normal. Sometimes there really are people who go through these journeys, whose patience and faith have to be tested over and over again. As romanticizing as it may seem in fairytales- of someone who simply wants to leave their "home" and make a new life of themselves- these things take work, and most of all, determination which can only be found after one has had enough tragedy.

Alex was done with this cycle, but it wasn't done with him. He was seventeen when the hurricane hit.

**_I was left to my own devices_ **

**_Many days fell away with nothing to show_ **

**_And the walls kept tumbling down_ **

**_In the city that we love_ **

They say the hardest battles prepare the most heroic of characters, that the toughest journeys are symbols of your strength and courage- and _that's_ when your virtues truly matter. If so, then Alex was going to be challenged in a way he's never been before. He faced illness and isolation- nothing in which he could control. But there's something eerie about nature itself coming for you. It could inspire you with beauty or traumatize you with the fear it strikes in your heart... That maybe your day of the end has come once and for all after all your trial and error. But perhaps life itself was like this.

**_Grey clouds roll over the hills_ **

**_bringing darkness from above..._ **

Every single time Alex looked back at that day, he couldn't recall the whole story. He remembered, however, the humidity; the violent winds and drowning rains; the dark, ominous sky foreshadowing his own potential demise; the screams of those who were still outside and were trying to seek refuge; simply the overwhelming, blinding, breathless amount of fear that _Yes, this is how Alexander finally dies._ And you're not just watching the weather, you're seeing everyone else terrified too in harm's way. There's no escape. Earth is so powerful, how could you possible withstand it?

Where could you run? Where could you hide? Is this really the end? If you're the legacy of someone else then who'll be your legacy if you die tonight?

There was silence. For just a moment it was clear, and instinct kicked in. Alex wanted to run, but he also wanted justice. Peace. To avenge those he'd lost. To be the one to break the chain of death and sorrow inflicted upon his family, the one that also took mother. He actually wanted to live, not just survive. After everything and with all the rage...

**_But if you close your eyes,_**

**_does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?_ **

No. They had to know his name.

It was a miracle anyone lived, so they say. Rachel died, Peter died, who knows how many countless others did too that day? But not Alexander, no, he lived. He seemed almost unkillable at this point. No matter what the sent him he just... He couldn't seem to drown. He couldn't seem to die. But that's okay- Hell, he was going to be okay. He was going to take all that rage and put it on a page... He'd write his way out of this hell, this captivating island, and he, too, like so many others will live perhaps what they call the "American Dream." Better yet, the _Immigrant_ Dream. He doesn't have to be isolated.

**_Does it almost feel like you've been here before?_ **

Rachel said that you could find happiness right where you are.

**_If you could see me now, would you recognize me?_ **

**_Would you pat me on the back or would you criticize me?_ **

**_Would you follow every line on my tear-stained face,_ **

**_put your hand on my heart that was cold the day you were taken away?_ **

**_I know it's been awhile, but I can see you clear as day..._ **

After the hurricane, it was hard to find himself again... He thought a lot about what his life would mean from now, and what it has always been. 

**_Yeah, lonely nights I laid awake_ **  
**_Pray the Lord, my soul to take_ **  
**_My heart's become too cold to break_ **

He thought of the tauntings, like he'd never do anything great while he's on such a lonely island.

**_You used to say I won't know a wind until it crossed me_ **  
**_Like I won't know real love 'til I've loved and I've lost it_ **

He could leave Tom. He could leave Edward. He could leave Nevis, St. Croix, Antigua, all of it behind. Once more, there was silence.

**_Know I'm great but I'm broke as hell_**  
**_All my life I've been told to wait_**  
**_But_ _I'mma_ _get it now, yeah it's no debate_**

A new chapter began. Alex had to take that opportunity, one so grand it could fill an ocean, maybe more. He had to continue to fight, and this time he had a plan.

* * *

  ** _First things first_**

**_I'ma say all the words inside my head_ **

**_I'm fired up and tired of the way that things have been_ **

He did as he promised: Take that rage, put it on a page. Miraculously, when his very own father heard of the storm he began writing to Alexander. First, this aroused confusion and even suspicion. _So now he decides to show up?_ It was hard to not be bitter, but he wrote back. He let some of the fury and grief he'd been holding onto for year finally make themselves known as his hand flew across the paper, mind already on the next few sentences that would convey everything. Luckily, Alex wasn't afraid of the truth or the harm of his sharp tongue.

**_Second thing second_ **  
**_Don't you tell me what you think that I can be_ **  
**_I'm the one at the sail, I'm the master of my sea_ **

Maybe it was insane. Impossible. Reckless. But that never stopped him before. Any word of criticism and doubt that others tried to inflict upon Alexander's final decision was tuned out; the young man only had room for his own ambitions. _Just you wait, just you wait..._

**_I was broken from a young age,_**

Bastard. Orphan (he may have had his father left, but in his eyes, he didn't see blood). Son of a "whore". Living in poverty.

**_taken my sulking to the masses,_**

**_write down my poems..._**

Within the words ability to make a difference, Alex found a single hope, a single advantage against the world in which he found himself, isolated from the rest of it and hungry for change.

**_Singing from heartache from the pain,_**

**_taking my message from the veins-_ **

**_Speaking my lesson from the brain_ **

**_seeing the beauty through the pain..._ **

Pain... had made itself worth it. The letter in which he described everything he had- The hopes, the pain, the story, _everything_ \- made its way slowly but surely to the public, written in a local newspaper.  _Royal Danish-American Gazette._ Alex would never forget that... it would've saved his very life.

It somehow appealed to the very people of the islands that remained there since their very birth... A place they stayed at and would probably die at as well. The liveliness, _passion_ , sharpness... it captivated people's attention; it made them _understand_. It sparked something in their hearts, a type of kindness Alex didn't know exactly how to repay. He'd seen the locals and worked by their side, but it's something different when they all help out to help _you_. They granted him his very wish: _Freedom_.

Freedom from the very place that cradled him when he was a child and the very place that kept him isolated. A dangerous combination.

Community leaders and even the locals helped fund Alex a permanent trip to North America so he could get a proper education. A proper life. He would travel somewhere that seemed oceans away, _galaxies away_ , yet now so close to his restless clutch. (If only distance could be measured so simply...)

Out of everyone who was directly involved with the hurricane, he lived. And of all the people who may have wanted to leave, of all the people who, too, were poor and simply trying to survive, _Alexander_ was the one to make it out. Alive. Victorious. Radiant. Eager for change. All because he had the wit and ambition that outpowered the ones that, like himself, seemed otherwise powerless.

He was finally enough.

* * *

Upon arrival to New York City, he was breathless- Exactly how he'd been when he found out he was finally getting out of his old home. The day had been normal enough, alongside Tom, working as a merchant. The only thing off thus far were the locals paying extra attention to him: Waving, eyeing him and whispering to each other... He could practically feel their excitement, which only confused him. Unless some news about discounts or financial donations arriving (the latter being unlikely), there was really no reason to be gossipping like they had done. But Alex shrugged it off. People were so unpredictable these days, naturally.

The only thing that _really_ unnerved him was that random stranger- and older guy- coming up and hugging him, quite close to tears. " _Mon Dieu, bien Monsieur!_ I've heard all about it, and I cannot express my surprise and pride enough! _Bénir, bénir_..." Alex might've thought this guy was crazy, but he patted his back goodnaturedly nevertheless with a forced smile. " _Merci, merci_..." was all he could utter. A small crowd had gathered around, smiling and holding their hands to their heart, obviously pleased.  _I'll be damned,_ Alex thought. _I know they must think me well, but still..._

Only when he met up with Tom was the great secret told. Alex realized he was being extra quiet. "Oh, not you too," Alex mumbled. When Tom raised a questioning eyebrow Alex sighed. " _Please_ , you didn't notice how weird everyone's been acting? Especially around me?" His eyes narrowed. "You know something."

"That may be correct." Alex opened his mouth to speak but a newspaper was shoved his way. He glanced at Tom once more, then read the title.  _Young merchant catches his hometown's eye with his stunning, elaborate letter full of passion- and plea._ Alex only had to glance at the paper to realize it was his own writing. He gaped, stared at Tom, then glanced back at the letter, hand covering his mouth in shock. 

"Surprise, Alexander," Tom said tenderly. "You're getting outta the Caribbean after all."

Alex sobbed, greatly surprising Tom. He wasn't used to showing such emotion around others. Nevertheless, they shared a hug and Alexander broke the news to Edward, who showed his pride and admiration well.

"I knew you could do it. You've always worked so hard."

_**Nobody really knows how or why he works so hard** _  
_**It seems like he's never got time** _  
_**Because he writes every note and he writes every line...** _  
_**It's like a design is written in his head every time** _

Alex wiped away the tears and made the most of his last few days at the place he was raised. On his last day, tons of locals waved goodbye to Alex and said their gratitude, carrying signs of support. Strangers, people he didn't even know... They were here to witness the greatest turning point in his life. Perhaps the world wasn't as broken as he thought. He waved faithfully, smiling and cheering with the rest. Inside he was thinking _Never again. Hasta la vista, Nevis. The world's gonna remember the name._

 He was ready. And now he was looking at the city he just arrived to: a glorious, romantic city he never thought he'd ever make it to. At an _age_ he never thought he'd make it to... Nineteen. He was only nineteen. But he was as ambitious and proud and willing as they come. That urge had to be satisfied for once and for all. He had never been satisfied before... but perhaps in New York City he could change that. _In New York you can be a new man... Just you wait._

**_We'll go down in history_ **  
**_Remember me for centuries..._ **

****"Look, Mama," he muttered to himself. "We made it. We have our freedom."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs referenced to:  
> "Demons" by Imagine Dragons  
> "Prom Queen" by Molly Kate Kestner, but with alternative lyrics. It's also a reference to Nevis's original national anthem. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/God_Save_the_Queen)  
> "Never Enough" from the Greatest Showman soundtrack  
> "Lost Boy" by Ruth B.  
> Musical references, if they even count: "The World Was Wide Enough," "Aaron Burr, Sir," "Blackout," "Alexander Hamilton," "It's Quiet Uptown," and "Hurricane".  
> "Warriors" by Imagine Dragons  
> "Where You Are" from the Moana soundtrack (I'm complete TRASH)  
> "Pompeii" by Bastille  
> "If You Could See Me Now" by The Script  
> "Me, Myself & I" by G-Eazy ft. Bebe Rexha  
> "Believer" by Imagine Dragons  
> "Remember the Name" by Fort Miner  
> "Fighter" by Gym Class Heroes  
> "Centuries" by Fall Out Boy  
> 


	3. you can rise again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   _Home_  
>  _A place where I can go to take this off my shoulders_  
>  _someone take me home..._  
>  _I found no cure for the loneliness, I found no cure for the sickness_  
>  _Nothing here feels like home-_  
>  But now I've found a home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YO I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN KICKING MY ASS FOR THE LONGEST TIME AHHH
> 
> The chapters may get slightly less detailed/lengthy, starting with this one. Just so you know :) Also, once more, I want to apologize for being so late posting this update. I've been nearly dying due to exams and being sick (so, the usual). I hope this is adequate enough, till next time <3 Feedback and other commentary are appreciated.

**_We may not yet have reached our glory_ **  
**_But I will gladly join the fight_ **  
**_And when our children tell their story_ **  
**_They'll tell the story of tonight_ **

The path of two individuals are always different, and to some extent, narrow and crooked and broken. Sometimes life proves to hit you with unexpected dead ends or bumps in the journey. The endpoint may not be exactly the same, but in ways, we all have the same foundation and crave the same virtues in life. Some seek a new path more fitting for their fate and a place to settle. Others seek adventure and a way to live out the destiny they've always known. Everyone's path crosses another and depending on how we handle these minor interruptions does it help or hurt our own path of beliefs and revelations. Fate, destiny, karma- whatever it is you believe, some paths were bound to intertwine and influence. 

Fate had taken away Eleanor and Rachel, along with others who also couldn't escape death. But fate brought along something true and pure in its debt to the young men, a journey supplied with a secure connection. Destiny was a distinct picture in both Alex and John's eyes: Alex to pursue in endless writing and constant fighting to finally live to his own advantages, John to simply find himself and learn what true acceptance felt like. (Is it always inevitable for a hurricane to meet a tornado?)

These common objectives could be found within the soul at its awakening point. Or, in this case, too many wine glasses and blood.

* * *

Whereas John stopped by the bar with his own will Alex was practically forced to. John had to escape his self-loathing thoughts and the reckless impulse to either punch someone in the face or burn something, and though not a huge alcohol person, it would surely to the job of  (ironically) sobering his emotions. Honestly, John probably wouldn't have been at the bar at all if he hadn't adopted some of his own father's habits (though John's vain pride refused to let himself believe so). Eleanor wouldn't touch much alcohol but preferred strawberry wine. Thinking of this, John became sick suddenly and pushed his glass across the table wearily.

**_Have you ever felt like nobody was there?_ **

Alex, however, needed a break from the busying streets of New York City. Alex considered himself energetic and adaptable, but still, coming from a small, isolated island to a crowded place full of various buildings, cars, and no-nonsense people, a break was needed ever so often to prevent losing himself in the change. 

Besides, it was Burr's fault for being so overwhelmingly cautious.

Face flushed and heart beating wildly, Alex thought _Fuck it_ , and followed Burr's leading walk inside the bar (though he considered this beneath himself). Burr was one of the first people Alex had met in the workplace and already thought it was his personal duty to be stuck up Alex's ass, advising Alex as if he was an annoying kid and keeping him out of trouble ("Talk less, smile more."). However, Burr was highly respected and did his duty well as a lawyer, and Alex had to respect that as a lawyer himself. (Honestly, the guy wasn't too bad, and Alex could admit he fell for the man's classic charm. But still, how could someone be so indecisive over everything? Why did he have to care so much about Alex in the first place? _He's not my mom or my dad. He can fuck off_.)

**_Have you ever felt forgotten in the middle of nowhere?_ **

(Anger and bitterness could really drown out Alex's logic, in spite of the fact that this was one of his greatest qualities.)

"You're better off here," Burr said cooly but with an undertone of chiding that didn't go unnoticed by Alex. "Sit down, don't make a scene. Maybe the moron didn't follow us."

Upon entering the bar he refused to meet Burr's wishes or reply to Burr's comments and so the latter, exasperated, ordered Alex's drink for him. Alex threw his notebook down at the closest seat to the small window, far from anyone else. Thankfully, it was sunset on a Tuesday, and barely anyone else was there- just a few older men and women. No one really noticed him... except John.

He wasn't eavesdropping on purpose, but the fuming, obviously pissed off ginger with none other than New York's most noted prodigy was _right there._ John had to blink a few times. When _he_ had moved to New York, he had met Burr at King's College. (Somehow convincing Henry to go to NYC instead of some South Carolinian school worked.) Curious (and with nothing better to do anyway), John tried to keep his eye on the interesting duo. Burr- the diplomat as always- carried two drinks back to Alex, who bluntly refused them and continued to scribble in his notebook with such force John was surprised he didn't rip the whole page. ( _Were all redheads dramatic?_ )

As Burr looked like he was contemplating his next advantage over Alex, John grabbed hold of his glass and sipped as he eyed them. Alex eventually looked up once, and the two met eyes: cold, sharp eyes meeting wide, interested eyes. Alex's expression went from anger to confusion to calm and appraising. John had the vague feeling that Alex could see entirely through him, and though he didn't want to he forced his gaze back down with a small, nervous smile. He didn't catch Alex smiling back, and definitely wasn't aware of the strange calmness that passed over Alex. He felt the déjà vu, too.

It was, seemingly, an insignificant exchange. Yet John couldn't help to glance back at Alex, seeing if maybe the man was still studying him. But no. Alex was focused once more on his piece of paper. John tried to find an explanation for his heart rate but couldn't justify it wholeheartedly. _It's the alcohol_ , and so he sipped again.

Alex was coming up with his own excuses about why suddenly he wanted to engage with the attractive man with a whole halo of dark, curly hair and a whole constellation of freckles adorning his face.

Fate had taken its toll, but what about destiny?

 **_Have you ever felt like you could disappear?_ **  
**_Like you could fall, and no one would hear?_ **

Suddenly, the doors flung open, and all hell broke loose. Three guys entered abruptly, obviously on a mission. There impatient, angry eyes matched Alex's and the started to mumble to themselves incoherently. John frowned, brows furrowed. For some reason, he felt anxious. Like this was a warning, like he had to leave as soon as possible. He glanced at Burr and Alex. Burr's eyes were wide, and John immediately sensed the danger. As if on cue, Alex finally looked up and confirmed this guess, momentarily matching Burr's shocked, gazed expression before masking it under a facade of calmness John didn't know possible under such heat.

Burr grabbed Alex's sleeve as if trying to warn him, but Alex spoke up boldly: "Ah, so you've found me, boys?" in a rough, teasing New York accent.

Burr facepalmed, and John felt like doing the same. He was considering whether _brave_ or _stupid_ matched Alex more.

"Alexander," one of them growled, and John felt his own heart lurch. "Do you know how much trouble you're in?" 

Despite their threatening tone, Alex stood up and straightened. Honestly, it should have been pathetic, the short, scrawny ginger against three big males who looked quite similar to thugs, though John had no true experience in those matters. But Alex was, in fact, intimidating with that inextinguishable fire in his eyes. Like embers that would scorch you easily with no remorse if given the chance.

Stubbornly, Alex raised his chin and smirked effortlessly. "Trouble?" He cocked his head. "And why would that be?"

"Don't play dumb with me," another man spoke. "Talk shit and you get knocked to the floor."

By this time, workers were already muttering to themselves, ready to make a move by either calling the police or somehow verbally commanding peace without being dragged into the affair themselves. 

Alex didn't seem to notice and scoffed, crossing his arms like they were mere schoolyard bullies and nothing more. "Please, I fucking dare you to make a move. Watch what happens." No one made Alex feel powerless.

John's heart swelled in admiration, though he again didn't know how to justify his emotions. The other half of him felt scared out of his mind. He did _not_ want to witness a fight, especially if someone as capable as Alexander was going to get hurt. No, John wouldn't allow it...

 **_No matter what they tell you_ **  
**_Someone will come running to take you home_ **

"That's it, I ain't playing anymore," was the last sentence spoken before all three men caught up to Alex in lightning speed, throwing punches as Alex tried blindly to fight back, making desperate attempts of kicking and pulling. John gaped as he watched Alex duck and gracefully turn the opposite direction to escape, which _should_ have been an advantage given the man's smaller size, but his oppressors pulled him back. Losing balance, Alex fell with a hiss and a sea of curses and screams. It took one punch and the sight of scarlet blood coming from Alex's nose for John to drunkenly commence in battle.

Upon reflection, John had no memory of the workers calling the police but he could vaguely remember someone pulling him back from the fight, though he squirmed free and continued to viciously attack Alex's bullies and block the latter from any other attempts of harm, as useless as it seemed. Alex, shocked but now eternally grateful, allowed John to finish them off before dragging himself underneath a nearby table to collect his senses and stop the gushing blood from his nose and mouth. He once kicked at a man that was trying to flip John over to the ground but bumped his head in the process so quickly vetoed the idea.

 **_Tomorrow there'll be more of us_ **  
**_Telling the story of tonight_ **  
**_Out of the shadows_ **

The police soon arrived, barking orders. John and the rest of the group were separated. He felt someone's tight grip on his arm, so he tensed and begin moving to throw another punch but recognized the uniform and commanding voice so he faltered, growing limp in the policeman's arms. He half-listened to the orders and demands of those around him, and as soon as John's vision focused he saw Alex already in handcuffs, a female officer pressing a towel against his bleeding nose. He was panting, and John was sure he was too. Alex met his eyes, this time vulnerable, tired, thankful.

Alex nodded once. That was all the encouragement John needed. He smiled, something genuine in spite of the fact that the worry of possibly going to jail and _worse_ his father finding out about the event... It almost didn't matter. Alexander was okay.

**_All is new,_ **

**_it's only a matter of time_ **

Burr had apparently left the scene, but he was spotted once John and Alex were taken outside for questioning. The police asked him questions and eventually dismissed them so they could get clear answers out of the two bleeding men now slumped up against the bar's outdoor walls.

John and Alex sat there together, exhausted and dumb of speech. Alex took in a shaky breath and laid his head down on John's shoulder to the latter's astonishment. They were strangers, yet this felt intimate and right. Flashbacks of memories that seemed so far away yet close to John were visualized in his mind. Smoke, gunshots, bayonets, a whole damn revolution. It all seemed clear. John smiled and tenderly did the same, nuzzling Alex's red hair like they knew each other since birth. Like they were some Bonnie and Clyde duo, partners in crime. Considering the police, this wasn't too far off. The visions stopped but the feeling was still there.

They were questioned. But then released. Perhaps they figured the two young adults weren't worth the fight. Maybe they understood the situation. Regardless, they were left with a warning and were told to get some sleep, and one officer even returned Alex's notebook which had been left on Alex's seat.

John, feeling like he was completely hungover now, turned to Alex as the sirens and red and blue lights disappeared beyond the city. It was now dark, the lamplight making Alex's pale skin and bright hair appear more divine and charming. Lips stained red from blood and with the disheveled appearance of a die-hard thug himself or alcoholic, John now felt his fascination for the man grow.

Alex opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. It was the total opposite of seeing the man in front of those men, confident and charismatic, maybe even careless. John's heart twisted. He knew this image was wrong. Mutely, he closed the space between Alex and himself and embraced the latter gently as if protecting him from farther harm. Alex had no trouble responding with arms just as welcoming and in sync. 

"Let's go home," John said, choking back sobs he didn't even know were there. He wiped the tears from Alex, who nodded, clinging to John as if for dear life. "Yes," Alex agreed with a humorless chuckle. "Take me home, John," he replied softly.

Neither recalled Alex ever knowing John's name beforehand, but it wasn't discussed nor debated. 

 **_I met you in the dark, you lit me up_ **  
**_You made me feel as though I was enough_ **

They held hands in a silent agreement of trust along their walk to go home- wherever that was. Alex's apartment? John's small house he rented a few months ago that was still under construction? Damn, at that point, it didn't matter a bit. Passing streetlamps and sidewalks and endless buildings, Alex once looked up at the sky and frowned, pointing. John followed his gaze.

_Stars?_

"This is New York City," Alex said through a wheeze that sounded almost hysterical. "There aren't any stars in the city's sky. Especially not the city that never sleeps."

"They're out tonight, though," John said softly. He finally took in Alex's appearance again, a light, fond expression crossing his features. "Perhaps the universe knows we've met."

Alex returned the expression. "Mm, I have to correct you there."

John raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"You mean they know we've returned."

John didn't argue with his logic. They were found.

Again.

 **_I knew I loved you then_ **  
**_But you'd never know_ **  
**_'Cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting go_ **

Alex squeezed John's hand. Faithfully, he held on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References:  
> "Home" by MGK, X-Ambassadors and Bebe Rexha (summary)  
> "Found Tonight" by Lin-Manuel Miranda ft. Ben Platt  
> "Say You Won't Let Go" by James Arthur  
> i wrote this all today and now i feel like death


	4. waiting for a symphony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You’re a shooting star I see, a vision of ecstasy_   
>  _When you hold me, I’m alive_   
>  _We’re like diamonds in the sky_   
>  _I knew that we’d become one right away_   
>  _At first sight I felt the energy of sun rays_   
>  _I saw the life inside your eyes..._   
>  _So shine bright tonight,_   
>  _You and I_   
>  _We’re beautiful like diamonds in the sky_   
>  _Eye to eye,_   
>  _So alive_   
>  _We’re beautiful like diamonds in the sky..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this whole fanfic is proof that i overthink way too much  
> *  
> hey guys! I decided to add some fluff in the next few chapters because honestly I needed to introduce the other characters and I wanted some distance from chapters 1 and 2 before John returns to South Carolina so the plot isn't so... excessive, you know? that also explains the lack of references to songs and such, but they'll return! <3

**_I’ll never forget you_ **  
**_You’ll always be by my side_ **  
**_From the day that I met you_ **  
**_I knew that I would love you 'til the day I die_ **

Alexander was up before the alarm even rang. He was actually two hours early, as usual. Even with the warmth and comfort of John's shared bed and Alex's improving sleep habits, Alex still woke up at ungodly hours or at least earlier than John, who'd rather sleep in. Alex identified this as simply a natural thing he developed since a child; it was no problem, really. He was happier and healthier than that scrawny, starving kid from Nevis, right? That's what counted. (Granted, he was still scrawny...)

Stretching and yawning, Alex first stayed in bed to soak up the rest of his comfort before getting ready to start the day. He pushed back his messy ginger hair and smiled when seeing John still fast asleep next to him, eyes tracing John's many freckles and admiring the curve of his jaw. This was normal: the intimacy. Maybe it _should_ have been awkward, two guys already sharing a house after a few months since they've met, already practically cuddling (platonically...) every night, even on the very first day they were in each other's sight. Alex hadn't even hugged Jemmy as often as he did now, with John.

 **_And I will never want much more_ **  
**_And in my heart, I will always be sure_ **  
**_I will never forget you_ **  
**_And you’ll always be by my side 'til the day I die_ **

Admittedly, he loved John. It was _entirely_ fucking cliche- the whole _Oh, we fell in love at first sight, how cute!_ bit- but Alex had to admit his life seemed like a fairytale anyway. He went from poverty to the greatest city in the world (or so it is quoted) with a very, _very_ cute guy to spend the rest of his days with. Part of him wanted to be ashamed that he loved so openly now, despite promising all those years ago that he wouldn't ever get close to people. _That only made hearts break, right?_

But no. Here he was, and he was happy. John made everything feel right, as if all those years of Alex searching for his own life was finally rewarded in this miraculous gift of acceptance.

 _God,_ he remembered thinking, _if this a dream, I want to sleep forever._

But for now, he couldn't. He couldn't afford to be late. Dream or not, he still had a whole life to live and many things that still needed satisfying. 

(But who knows? Perhaps in another life, they were partners in crime, too, taking on challenges unknown to man. Perhaps still deeply in love. A dream in which could match a common legend, like Achilles and Patroclus?)

Alex climbed out of bed after a short pause to caress John's heavenly face, yet still careful as to not disturb John from his sleep. He somehow got out of the man's tightened arms and threw the covers back to its original place before the latter could wake up shivering. After spending his two hours alone showering, changing into new clothes, checking his messages ( _Really, Lafayette? Twenty messages on Instagram?_ ) and organizing his next meeting, the alarm finally rang and he heard the familiar sound of John grumbling and slapping the alarm off the desk. Smirking, Alex said "What did the alarm ever do to you?" as John dragged himself out of bed, self-consciously tugging the knots out of his long, dark hair.

"Mornin', Alex," John drawled, voice still rough from sleep. Usually, he could control his Southern accent but it was always visible when John was caught off guard. John was almost embarrassed about it, Alex having the city's common accent and all, but Alex only found it attractive. Not odd at all, really. The softness of his tenor voice, the occasional unbalance of his Southern vowels... that was all too familiar.

"Hi," Alex greeted cheerfully. 

"Did you drink all the coffee?" John asked, rubbing his eyes before quickly stretching, leaving his stomach partially exposed.

"No." Alex went back to writing, trying to ignore John's exposed frame. "There's plenty."

John snorted good-naturedly. "Surprisingly."

Alex looked up once more to wink at his friend, a common tactic aimed to fluster him. "Enjoy."

John rolled his eyes but smiled, making his way out their room, highly decorated with both their belongings (mostly full of books and John's old artwork). "I'll be back. I hope we're not late... I still have nightmares about the first time I was ever scolded by Washington when we overslept, though merciful he still was..."

"I doubt it," Alex reassured. " _And_ we should still make it to Starbucks before it's too late into the day."

John whirled back around, his hair slapping in his face. "What?"

"Surprise, dummy," Alex teased, chuckling for he was very amused witnessing his friend's disorganized state. "Lafayette, Herc and I arranged a little get-together today. Because we've all been busy, you know? Herc with his clothes, Laf and the rest of us with school... plus we know you're going back to South Carolina soon-"

"In _six weeks_ , Alex," John laughed, a joyous thing that made Alex's heart red with passionate flames, almost as scorching as his hair. Yet still it almost frustrated Alex, the power John had over him- his choices, thoughts, words, actions... admittedly his body too, but that was an introspection topic for another day. Why didn't it faze John that he was leaving? No, no, that was the wrong question and Alex knew it. He _was_ scared- home was _not_ an easy topic for either of them. But still, Alex wanted to curse John's pride sometimes, though it was as captivating as Alex's own. John was practically forcing himself to be strong, to act as if returning to his father after so many trials were easy- not a problem at all. It was a lie and Alex saw straight through it.

Alex turned pink. "We're going to miss you."

John smirked, and once again Alex wanted to return his own signature look. " _You're_ going to miss me." He sat down next to Alex, holding the latter's hand gently with a reassuring smile on his face. Once again it was noticed that, after any bravado from John that he somehow pulled out of the depths of his complex, tired soul, he still was soft and so sweet, sentimental. A romantic. Perhaps that was the timeless attraction John acquired, a gift Alex admired greatly.

"It's like I missed you before I even met you, and now you're leaving me for the first time..."

 **_I’ve been hearing symphonies_ **  
**_Before_ _all_ _I heard was silence_ **  
**_A_ _rhapsody_ _for you and me_ **  
**_And every melody is timeless_ **

John pulled Alex into a hug, rubbing the latter's back. Yes, like Alex had thought before, the intimacy was quite common and so natural that it was barely _truly_ questioned. "I'll only be gone for a week. You'll be okay, I promise. I'm going to miss you too, love."

 _Love._ Somehow not foreign anymore.

Alex nuzzled John's shoulder. He didn't know what else to say. He was a mixture of _proud_ and _unwilling_. Unwilling to see any harm done to John, and yet too aware of his friend's honorable actions to prevent them. Separation was an anxious topic- but it was more than just John leaving. That explanation only scratched the surface.

"It'll be over before you know it," John whispered in Alex's ear, smoothing the latter's hair.

 **_Life was stringing me along_ **  
**_Then you came and you cut me loose_ **  
**_Was solo singing on my own_ **  
**_Now I can’t find the key without you_ **

Alexander got used to the shivers John made him go through constantly. "Okay," Alex finally managed to say. "You're right." He smiled, looking up into his boy's eyes, seeking refuge that was, in fact, given unconditionally. "I'll keep that in mind. You better stay in touch, though, or we're going to have problems."

John laughed again. "Oh, I wouldn't want to mess with a feisty ginger such as yourself! What could a gentleman like me possibly do to protect his ever so important pride?"

"Ha!" Alex joined in his act. "True, you should never mess with a Scotsman-"

"'No true Scotsman' would behave such an abominable way, Alexander!" John interrupted, and Alex forgot whatever lecture he was going to inflict half-heartedly upon his friend. 

" _Et tu_ , John? I've done nothing wrong and here you are, accusing me as if I am the Rhett Butler to your Southern belle."

At these series of humorous allusions, John finally broke and laughed openly. Such a free laugh that only Alex properly witnesses, an acceptance that is louder than what John will face upon his arrival back in the notorious Charleston. "First of all, I should have never told you about _Gone With the Wind_ , though I suppose it's partially Emmy's fault, too. Second, to make your context make sense, why couldn't you just say _The Brutus to my Caesar_? You went from zero to one-hundred real fast, and I am afraid, Alexander, that it looks bad regarding your profession."

Alex rolled his eyes. " _Various professions_ , mind you. I did that on purpose."

"Hmm. Yet, of course, you'd make a Shakespeare reference- quite fitting- and then discourage the Confederacy pride in which I do not have." John raised an eyebrow, and Alex only mirrored the expression, replying: "I can't help it if you make the perfect Southern belle for me- assuming you back here to me in New York City with a renewed accent. I'll find that amusing."

John stuck his tongue out childishly, though Alex gleefully noted the blush on his freckled cheeks. John glanced at the clock suddenly, hummed, then said: "I'd love to continue having this argument, but it looks like we're going to be late."

"'Frankly, my dear'-"

"Oh, no. Don't you start." John shoved Alex lightly before helping him back up. The latter's smirk didn't die, and it felt like perhaps John wouldn't return back to South Carolina after all.

"Though so cold in my professions, I do believe the sun of your hometown is not as warm as your current friendship, hmm?" It was Alex's last attempt at teasing.

 **_I just wanna be part of your symphony_ **  
**_Will you hold me tight and not let go?_ **  
**_Symphony_ **  
**_Like a love song on the radio_ **  
**_Will you hold me tight and not let go?_ **

"Very much so," John answered, seriously. He hugged Alex close yet again, wordlessly, then went to the kitchen alone after asking Alex what he desired for breakfast. Alex thought, _Honestly, only you can satisfy me with the desire you've seemingly forced upon me,_ but held his tongue. He could be patient for John. He could wait. So instead of practically singing a declaration of love, he requested toast. It was a lot more simple than flowery, though basic, and simpler than poetry, though more adequate. Alex sighed. He'll just have to wait.

**_If there's a reason I'm still alive when so many have died, I'm willing to wait for it._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was originally going to have two more scenes, but i'm so impatient to post so just have this. next: we meet washington and more of the fam, including the actual squad, whoop whoop.
> 
> also i did not mean to add all these weird references but basically...  
> "No true Scotsman" = literary fallacy in arguments, plus Alex has Scottish blood so  
> "Et tu, John?" = Shakespeare reference from his Julius Caesar work. (Originally "Et tu, Brute?" which, in case you've never been exposed to Latin, "You too, Brutus?")  
> "Rhett Butler... Southern belle." = Gone With the Wind novel. Rhett is the second love interest (eventually anyway) of Scarlett O'Hara of Georgia. This reference was made because Alex is teasing about John's Southern background, plus it sets up the fact that Alex sees John has his eventual lover. The dynamics is not the same as Scarlett and Rhett but... you get the point, right?  
> "Frankly my dear..." is the beginning of a quote from Rhett: "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."
> 
> don't ask why they're making these references. they're just nerds ok (i regret not doing a lot of achilles/patroclus for emphasis but spare me)
> 
> music references:  
> "Diamonds" by Rhianna  
> "Never Forget You" by Zara Larsson ft. MNEK, and "Symphony" by Zars Larsson.  
> "Wait For It" the video game DOOM musical


	5. ode to the powerless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It's been a long day without you my friend_   
>  _I'll tell you all about it when I say you again..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally meet the fam. Huzzah. WOOO POSTED EARLY  
> (this is only part one though)

 Rushing to make it on time for classes, John and Alex practically ran out the door after John changed with bagels still in their mouths. "Don't get crumbs inside my Chevy," John warned, quickly checking his tumbling dark hair in the car's rearview mirror. Alex chuckled. "One day I'll be getting crumbs in my _own_ car- you know, as karma."

John rolled his eyes. "Honestly, after so many months of driving your ass everywhere I seriously can't imagine."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Really? You can't see me rolling down the streets of New York city in my new Lamborghini-"

"Ha! Good luck with that," John chuckled good-naturedly.

"Yeah," Alex sighed. "With our financial crisis, it'll be awhile before that happens."

"Don't worry. Eventually- when we have our lives organized after college- I'll gladly ride with you in your bright red Lamborghini."

Alex smirked at his friend's choice of words but didn't mention it. "It has to be bright red?"

"Suits you. Plus, we have to give Jefferson absolute hell."

Alex laughed. "You know me all too well."

King's College was located in a very odd spot in New York, pretty much in the center of all the main locations John and Alex's ragtag friend group visited on a daily basis. From Starbucks to fast food restaurants and theatres to Walmart and the downtown park, all was pretty much walking distance from their campus. Such fond memories there were of study nights drinking coffee and eating pizza, and of course the bowling alley celebrations after exams and finals every semester. Usually the plans were all done thanks to Lafayette and Eliza, who happen to stay on top of things like that. Plus, the clothing studio Mulligan worked at was easily accessible by car. If anyone asked for the story of everyone's friendship, they'd simply point to the college's location, though strange it was.

 **_Damn, who knew all the planes we flew_ **  
**_Good things we've been through_ **  
**_That I'll be standing right here_ **  
**_Talking to you about another path?_ **

Strange also accurately described how both Alex and John felt about coming to the college every single day. For Alex, it touched him to know that even after all his trial and error he finally made it to someplace that provided a professional education. John, on the other hand, was simply satisfied that he didn't have to go to a law school. _That_ would've been an absolute disaster. 

"Good luck today, by the way," John said, breaking the silence (though peaceful it was). 

Alex looked over his shoulder and smiled at John, his eyes still focused on the road ahead of him. He seemed almost distracted. The former tucked a strand of John's hair back in its place to get the latter's attention, and so it was given. "Thank you," Alex said. "Just don't forget that I'll be at the other school in the afternoon. Don't wait for me to leave." 

"Gotcha," John said. "The debate- you guys have everything handled?"

Alex exhaled. "I sure hope so. I'm not so worried about Burr and Angelica- they'll do amazing. But Jefferson and Madison? I don't know... We were all having issues with their portion of the argument. We had a group chat last night discussing the pros and cons- _again_ \- but the ending results aren't exactly satisfying. I don't know what we're missing, and obviously I couldn't interfere because Washington insisted that we keep to our own parts. _It's the rules_ , he said, or whatever."

"Well, at least they have you, aka the best public speaker in the whole debate team." John squeezed Alex's hand reassuringly.

Alex scoffed. "Though I do not deny-" John laughed at that, resulting in a small smile from Alex before he continued: "-I really do hope they know what they're doing. This isn't just my resentment toward Jefferson, but I don't know how much I can trust him. He's been extra stubborn lately and Madison simply isn't approachable."

John nodded. "And when's the next debate?"

"In six weeks. You won't be here..."

"I know, Alex... I'm sorry. I really do want to be there for you. Hell, even today, but-"

"Your activism works," Alex said with a smile. "It's okay. You're doing us a heroic deed."

John bit his lip, and Alex pushed away from the urge to do the exact same thing to his friend himself (or at least he tried). "I hope so," he muttered almost hoarsely.

"Hope," Alex repeated. "We always have that. This damned debate, your anonymous activist shit, my red Lamborghini..." 

John's humor returned and he laughed, taking a break to sip from Alex's Starbucks cup. "You're such a tease."

"Damn well I know it." 

* * *

"Alexander," Maria greeted upon the boys' arrival. "Washington specifically needs to speak you. Like, now."

John raised his eyebrows and Alex narrowed his eyes. "What?"

They were standing in the lobby, which was pretty much empty except for some students making their way to the cafeteria for breakfast. A single receptionist stood by the front desk, idly on her phone, occasionally eyeing Maria as if she was on probation or something- which wasn't _too_ far off. Maria Lewis was one of Washington's interns, one of the newer students from Florida who was simply looking for a job more than actual college courses (though she was slowly making her way through those too, or so she informed their common friend group). She held a tray of coffee in her right hand, using the left to brush away her dyed, curly red hair back. It matched her bright red lipstick, and her red and white clothing. She reminded everyone of some pop star/model but always pushed away that compliment. Honestly, she really looked like a candy cane with curly hair to Alex.

"I don't know. He just said that while the rest of King's Debate Team stayed in the History room, you were to meet him in his office. He didn't seem upset, but I learn not to underestimate him..." Maria turned to John. "Coffee?"

"Oh, um, no thanks."

Alex took a deep breath. "Alright," he muttered. "Thanks, Maria By the way, did you finish that essay I told you to?"

Maria narrowed her eyes. "You might be my tutor, but I also have a life outside of school."

"As a barista?"

Maria waved off his concern. "I'll get it done later. I told you, it's harder for me to do these things because of my dyslexia-and no, I haven't talked to a doctor yet. Stop coddling me."

Alex smirked. "'Kay, Miss Lewis." As Maria rolled her eyes he took one of the coffees from her tray. Though they used to barely tolerate each other, Maria ended up being another sisterly figure to him, though he'd hate to admit it out loud. They had a lot in common- and no, that wasn't just the red hair. They were both stubborn and stoic when needed, but there was something else Alex couldn't quite identify yet. Maria almost looked like Rachel... But no. He couldn't dwell on that fact. Rachel may have been of Puerto Rican descent, but that didn't mean they had a deep connection due to the Caribbean.

 **_How could we not talk about family when family's all that we got?_ **  
**_Everything I went through you were standing there by my side_ **  
**_And now you gonna be with me for the last ride_ **

John pulled him back, however, and said "I don't want you on a sugar rush during your debate."

Alex rolled his eyes. "Okay, _Doctor Laurens_."

"Better listen to your boyfriend, Lexi," Maria teased.

"Don't you have coffees to deliver or something?" Alex retorted.

Maria chuckled and carried on with whatever she was doing beforehand- probably assisting some teacher or completing an online class. "Oh, and John," Alex said before he could walk. "Um, can I borrow some of your science notes? I didn't understand the mess Laf gave me last week and don't we have a test later?"

John smirked. "My lovely lawyer, English and History major, top of his class, debate club attendee... needs some serious help in science."

"Who needs science anyway? I was born in Nevis, all the science we needed was knowing which days were warm enough to go outside without getting scorched. And I guess how to avoid illness as well... okay, and crops-"

John kissed Alex on the forehead gently before handing over his notebook. With a shy smile, he said "Make me proud and talk shit to those Northern New Yorker debate kids for me, yeah?"

Alex nodded, cheeks pink. "Yeah, yeah... Anything for you."

"Good. Bye, Alexander."

Alex watched John walk off, still shocked. 

 **_We've come a long way from where we began_ **  
**_Oh I'll tell you all about it when I see you again_ **  
**_When I see you again_ **

"Alexander!" the lady at the front desk called. "You're going to be late."

Spinning around and almost falling onto his face, Alex practically ran to Washington's.

* * *

"Sir?" Alex said, knocking briefly before slowly opening the door to Washington's office. "You there, or-" Yep. There the teacher was, at his desk, typing something away. He looked up and smiled at his student's arrival. "Alexander!" he said welcomingly. "Do come in. We have some things to discuss before the debate meet."

"Ah," Alex said, trying to ease away from his nervousness. "So the usual."

Generally, yes, Washington was pretty intimidating with his big size and lack of hair. But Alex always scolded himself for being such a scaredy cat around him. Heck, Alex was granted the priceless honor of being one the only kids that could sass and question the forty-something-year-old Virginian veteran without getting a serious, merciless lecture that normally scared even the most hard-ass teens senseless. (Like _Scared Straight_ , perhaps, Alex thought.) In fact, Washington went out of his way to help Alex constantly. He didn't get annoyed when Alex jokingly called him Old George. No other kid would've gotten away with saying his first name, but Alex was an exception. Upon reflection, Alex realized it shouldn't have been a strange concept: A fatherless son, a sonless father.

Alex sat down across from Washington and laced his fingers down with a smile he hoped didn't reveal his timidness. "Uh, how's Martha?"

Washington smiled. "Mrs. Washington is just fine, thank you. Did you enjoy the bagels she sent you?"

"Yes," Alex chuckled, recalling how flustered he was when sweet Martha shoved the pink box of bagels in his hand last Sunday. "Now, you can't refuse this for this comes from the bottom of my heart," she said, totally serious. Alex joked that it really just came from the local doughnut shop, but Martha wouldn't have it. "No, son!" she said cheerfully, walking away. "That's made from my blood and tears! Hope you don't mind, hon!" Alex frowned now. _Maybe because of John anyone with a Southern accent is rather appealing? Damn his charm._

Besides. She was so motherly...

"She has a way with words, that's for sure," Alex joked.

"Indeed." Washington suddenly turned his laptop to face Alex. "Read this, son."

Alex narrowed his eyes, sitting the laptop on his lap. Frowning, he read out loud: "' _Newberry St. Paul's College is happy to welcome downtown's college with teens also desiring to work in the field of business and law... Any winner of the debate is entitled to a share of money that could either benefit the school itself or a charity of its choosing..._ Sir, I already know all th-"

"Look at the last three sentences." Washington tapped on his desk impatiently, though his voice remained even.

Alex scrolled.  _It is, however, not guaranteed that the winning school's earnings will remain intact if it so happens to win the finals at the end of the year's debate game with the other East Coast schools-_

"What!?" Alex cried. "They can't- they can do that?"

Washington sighed. "Apparently."

"So, you mean even if we win, there's still a possibility our own money and championship title can be taken away from us?" Alex demanded.

"I'm sorry, son. But yes. As leader of the debate team, I thought you should know."

"I appreciate the information on such short notice, but- _Wait_ , did you just say...?"

"Leader." Washington smiled yet again. "Or Captain, whichever you prefer." The teacher saluted and continued as Alex gaped: "That's right. Captain Ham leading King's College and their future prodigies to victory-"

"B-but, sir-"

"Now, Alex," Washington said teasingly, "I didn't think you'd turn down this offer-"

"N-no, sir! Of course not! But-" Alex took a shaky breath. "What about... Burr?"

There was a shallow laugh from the teacher. "Burr's position was never actually confirmed. Plus, Alex..." His voice softened into something that almost seemed like admiration, much to Alex's astonishment. "We all know you work harder than anyone here. Your essays, your preparedness, going the extra mile just so everything's organized and in order. You deserve this position. No pressure."

Finding his voice, the new captain said: "Sir, I don't know how to accept this..."

"Ah, but much like those bagels, you will. And victory will be sweet."

Alex shooked his head. "T-thank you, sir, I-"

"Don't mention it. Also, a little birdie told me that you were having concerns about Jefferson and Madison's role in this debate meet?"

"I, uh, whatever you heard it's probably Jefferson's f-"

"You can have part B of their portion."

"I- What? So, wait, I'm captain and all of a sudden I get to wipe the shit-eating grins off their-" He paused when Washington gave him a _Seriously, dude?_ look, straightened and cleared his throat. "I mean, thanks, gosh, I was so worried... I knew I probably could've done their roles better but I didn't actually imagine..."

"Well, you got your wish. You do have their portion memorized."

"Pfft, do I?" Alex pulled out a whole packet of hand-written notes and displayed it for Washington. "Practically the whole thing. If someone screws up, _someone_ has to be the one to save our asses."

"And that person is always you..."

Alex swallowed. Had he gone to far? "Um... well, hypothetically." Yes. That's a good answer. Not to forward, but firm nevertheless.

"Well, we're both going to be late to the pep-talk if we stay here chatting and whatnot." Washington took his laptop back and stretched. "Would it be too much to hit you with one more surprise?"

Alex opened his mouth, but before he could reply Washington rushed: "No, no. I have to go. But... well, look in my drafts. My email to you. You'll see."

And without another word, he was off.

Curious, Alex did as he requested. A single paragraph was highlighted:

_Son, I know we've all been discussing the charity in which to send the prize money we could possibly win after this month's debate meet. I've been thinking about, and though there are so many organizations that need our help, I thought there was one that was truly relevant and close to our hearts. I've spoken to the team and to other students in your classes- specifically your friends- and we've all decided that the money we could raise will benefit Puerto Rico's harsh condition in the aftermath of Hurricane Maria. Maybe it'll give you some closure. We truly appreciate and love you, Alexander. Thank you for all you do. This is our ode to you and to anyone else who has ever been once powerless._

Alexander shut the laptop and closed his eyes. Suddenly, he could feel the winds and sun from Nevis. He could clearly see the beaches, the stars, the sand. Mother was waiting for him, and she was as beautiful and as youthful as ever despite of her tragedy that Alex was only partially aware of then. Her red hair swept her face in the wind, and her blue eyes gleamed excitedly as young Alexander ran to her at full speed, holding out his arms to embrace her. 

 **_So let the light guide your way, hold every memory_ **  
**_As you go, and every road you take will always lead you home_ **

He shivered. He could almost feel her arms around his.

Shakily, but with renewed faith, he got up to greet his fellow classmates. _This is true freedom and hope. Who would've thought?_

 **_It's been a long day without you, my friend_ **  
**_And I'll tell you all about it when I see you again_ **  
**_We've come a long way from where we began_ **  
**_Oh I'll tell you all about it when I see you again_ **  
**_When I see you again..._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are nice :)
> 
> "See You Again" by Wiz Khalifa ft. Charlie Puth


	6. bound by our stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _All the life she has seen_   
>  _All the meaner side of me_   
>  _They took away the prophet's dream_   
>  _For a profit on the street_   
>  _All his life he's been told_   
>  _He’ll be nothing when he’s old_   
>  _All the kicks and all the blows_   
>  _He won't ever let it show_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter I mentioned Puerto Rico's recovery, and today I stumbled upon this: https://www.google.org/crisis/puertorico-relief/ There are other sites out there, but this is the most recent I've found. #PuertoRicoSeLevanta

"Care to join us?" Thomas teased as Alex entered the History room, his feet propped on the desk with that stupid grin on his face. Alex rolled his eyes, feeling his confidence renew when Washington gave Thomas a stern look. Shouldn't he know by now not to interrupt the veteran when he's discussing a vital game plan and pep talk? Especially when he was prone to castigate? Alex practically pranced to his seat as Thomas complied to sit properly. 

"Hi!" Peggy stage-whispered to Alex, pom poms waving excitedly as her curly brown hair bounced. Technically Peggy Schuyler was still in high school, but she was allowed on campus to be part of King's cheerleading squad that accepted members across the state to participate in games all across the East coast. (Good thing the Schuyler family had money...)

Alex smiled and waved, then sat next to her step-sister Angelica (though that was never mentioned, God forbid) who nodded at him appreciatively, She also had curly hair, though black, today tied back in a small bun that meant she was ready to slay some shit like the queen she was. She wore a simple white blouse and jeans that contrasted to her sister's cheer uniform, short and almost as colorful as her personality. Compared to Peggy, Angelica was intimidating. Not _Washington_ intimidating, but Alex was still lucky they were friends now, or else they'd probably be rivals since they viewed each other as equals (their combined personalities making a clash extremely unpleasant) when otherwise they were both inimitable. 

"Yes, thank you, Alexander, for arriving," Washington said warmly. It was almost awkward now, knowing the email he was destined to read. "Now that your captain has arrived-" Peggy gasped and squealed as everyone else gaped, some smiling and others nervous. "-we can now go over any changes in schedule."

Angelica gave Alex an encouraging smile. Burr met the ginger's eyes and gave him a questioning look. _No bother, he'll be fine. Not like he really wanted the title as captain anyway. Though I guess Burr never really opens up about his aspirations..._

"First, the actual debate meet will start later than scheduled because of some assembly, plus buses are running slow."

There was a collective groan, even from Peggy. Though not an attendee, she surely was passionate about their work. "I know, I know. We'll have to chill in the cafeteria for a bit, but at least we can go over any lines and portions that are needed. Speaking of which..." He raised a sly eyebrow in Thomas and James' direction. "Jefferson? Madison? I'll take portion B off your hands."

Thomas looked at James for some information but James shrugged.

"Alexander will be borrowing your part."

"Sir-" Thomas started, but Washington held up his hand and explained: "The introduction to your key points will still be done by you, and the reasoning, which I've already made clear to Alex. Plus, you can back up Angelica and Burr when it is needed."

"What are we? Ghostwriters now?"

"You understand that desperate measures call for change, yes, Jefferson?"

"Thank you, sir," James spoke up for Thomas. "We'll do our new roles just fine."

"That's the spirit." Upon this sentence, Peggy grinned. Obviously, she was just as ready as Angelica, though she couldn't keep as much stoic composure. "Listen, we've worked so hard for the past three months. I believe we have what it takes to advance to the next rounds. And if not, I am proud either way and so should all of you." He individually met the eyes of every student: Alex, Angelica, Thomas, James, Burr and even Peggy. "And remember, there is always opportunity from failure. Well!" He clapped his hands and tapped his clipboard. "Discuss among yourselves. I need to check in."

Washington left. James checked his phone. "Twenty minutes, at most," he said, and Thomas huffed, obviously still annoyed at Alex's victory.

Alex tore a sticky note from his notebook as Angelica turned towards him. "So," she said. "How does it feel, outranking all of us?"

Alex chuckled. "Well, I'm honored. But don't worry, I won't be bossy. I'm still the same, you know. I'll help you guys, challenge you guys, whatever."

"Shocker," Angelica teased, pushing her own notebook to him. "Read through this?"

"Sure." Alex blushed. All this praise from Miss Perfect herself was just overbearing, more than Eliza's own sweet-talk. 

" _Honestly_ ," Thomas spoke up. "I don't think we need some Cicero marching around here, using his new power to take advantage of us."

"Oh," Alex said without looking up, "do you mean to compare me with Cicero because we're both considered the _newbies_ and _outsiders_? We both have a way of intimidating our enemies, I'll give us that... Catiline was indeed bankrupt during he and Cicero's banters, and you are as to Cateline as I am as to Cicero, so I wouldn't talk. But, I admit, you remind me more of Julius Caesar-minus the glory and, shall I specify, emphasizing his downfall."

Angelica frowned. "Both of their careers got ruined anyway."

"Hmph." Thomas crossed his arms. "And your own ambitions won't cause a downfall?"

"I am not prone to failing, alas," bragged Alex, complacent.

"Shall I remind you the only reason that your here is because Washington took pity on you and crowned you king?"

"'Kings Never Die.'"

"Say that to all the regicides of history."

"And now he's quoting Eminem..." James sighed.

Alex finally looked up, jaw clenched. "Would you rather me quote Shakespeare?"

"Here he goes," mumbled Burr. 

"They think you Macbeth," Thomas concluded, and this time Peggy groaned. "Ambition is your folly-"

"-I'm a polymath," Alex finished.

"-a pain in the ass-"

"You guys are all pains!" Peggy said with no particular scorn. Sensing the high waters, she distracted the others by showing her new cheer. Thomas, a very one-track minded person, immediately clapped and cheered though obvious tension still ached in his eyes. Alex was observant to know this much, but didn't respond to it. 

Angelica raised an eyebrow at Alex, perhaps silently scolding him for being so childish, and so the latter shrugged and eventually Washington appeared again to lead everyone off to their destination. _Please_ , Alex prayed to whatever divine being who may have been listening, _don't let Thomas be an ass and ruin everything. Also, um, tell one of your angel things to deliver my message that says he can choke on a dick. I would say it myself but I'm on thin ice._

Peggy interrupted Alex's thoughts by touching his elbow. "Hey," she said gently, and Alex jumped back, swiping at her arm.

"Woah, kitty," she giggled.

Alex turned pink. "Don't call me kitty. That brings back bad memories."

"Okay..." She went through her purse and held out a small, golden pin. "I, uh, wanted to give you this."

Alex studied it in the palm of his hand. " _Se soulever_... Rise up."

"Yeah." She rubbed her arm nervously. "You made me feel confident when I felt like nothing... I could easily confide in you." Peggy looked up at him with her pretty, youthful eyes. "I want to give you the same confidence, though I doubt you need it..."

Alex held the pin to his heart. "Thank you, Peggy. I- I don't know what to say."

"Then don't." She smiled, those dimples obvious. "Save your breath for the debate. Thanks for- for being the brother I never had." She gently kissed him on the cheek. "Don't hate me for this." 

Then she skipped away to Angelica.

Stunned, Alex got behind the rest of the group. _Brother..._

Hell, everyone had to make him feel all emotional and shit today

* * *

 John kept playing the same keys over and over again on the keyboard. _C, C, G, G, D. G, G, E, E, F. F, E, D, C._  Distracted, he ran his right hand through his tied up hair and tapped his left hand on the table. Mulligan and Lafayette were as busy as ever, and by now Alex was still at that one school for his debate team. It was odd not having his closest friends around. John was honestly okay with it, but still... They were his family. It was odd how the very month he'd leave for South Carolina was also the month in which he didn't see much of his family back in New York. Why can't I just have both? But no, he knew that was forbidden territory. Honestly, these soon-to-be graduates were probably no match for his die-hard religious family, and vice versa.

He sighed, playing multiple chords over and over again. Something about the repetition reminded himself of his own life, but at the moment he couldn't think too deeply about it.

"Hey," a soft voice called over his shoulder. John recognized the voice as Elizabeth Schuyler and smiled when she stood right in front of his keyboard. 

"Hi, Eliza."

"Nice to see you," she said, dark eyes sparkling. "Having trouble, or are you just experimenting?"

"Hmm? Oh, the notes. Yeah, just thinking."

"Of your family?" There was something strange about her tone, a tinge of sadness and understanding that John didn't think should've been in sweet, pure Eliza's voice. Her long, black hair was tied up a ponytail which matched her dark jeans, and her white sweater matched her pale yet angelic skin. She seemed so comfortable, so at ease, and yet all the same feeling every rush of your own heartbeat. John swore it's like she saw through everyone.

"Yeah," John admitted. "But really, it's not trouble. I actually have a draft of the song I'm performing. Actually, I have to perform it in the next week or so in order to actually get a grade." It was true. In exactly six weeks, all students in the performing arts had to come up with their own original piece to sing/play in front of their class. And in six weeks, John would be in South Carolina, getting his tan on, meeting relatives and trying hard not to explode.

Eliza nodded. "May Maria and I hear? I promise we won't copy anything. Mine's almost finished and I'm sure Maria has hers planned out thoroughly too."

John smiled. "Of course."

Eliza waved Maria over, and the redhead popped her gum. "'Sup, loverboy," she teased with a smile.

John rolled his eyes. "Would you not?"

"Loverboy?" Eliza asked, raising an eyebrow. She, too, looked suddenly in a teasing mood. Leave it to the Schuylers to be about that gossip.

Maria shrugged. "You should've seen how sweet Johnny here was to his darling Alex this morning."

"Shut up, Lewis."

Maria made kissy faces and Eliza giggled. "I am sorry to tease," she said sincerely, swatting at Maria's arm. "Really, John. But honestly, you two are so cute!"

"John kissed Alex," Maria said proudly, and the boy turned red as Eliza fanned herself merrily.

"Oh!" she cried. "Finally!"

"Are we here to talk about nonexistent love life or do you guys actually want to hear my song?"

"Calm down, Scorpio," Maria said, patting his arm. Her red nails almost cut him in the process. "We're just being childish." And then she did her signature pout, and John swore for a second Alex could've been the one doing so right now instead of her. He laughed. "That might work with other boys, but you can't sweet-talk yourself out of this one, hon."

Eliza looked almost as red as Maria's nails (and her hair, and her scarf and shoes). "Go on, John," she said softly.

John took a deep breath. "Okay, ready or not..." He had practically memorized the song, so no sheet music was needed. After a few soft notes on the keyboard, he sang in his highly praised tenor voice:

" _Well, I know it's been a long time since we've seen the sun_

_And I know for sure you'll be looking for me when it's all done_

_But this sun doesn't rise like it used to before_

_'Cause our child days are long and gone_

_Oh, but can you say you'll remember me?_

_Oh, can you say that you'll be here?_

_'Cause I'm just broken as this record_

_'Cause I'm only barely breathing at the surface_

_And the only thing I'll ever need_

_is you to trust me with this life."_

A short instrumental break followed before the rest:

" _Come, come and meet me by the sand_

_Come, come, love me as I am_

_And if you still remember-_

_if you're still there,_

_Don't hesitate, don't wait for me_

_Leave me in the water for I have to drown_

_before I can allow myself to see you again_

_But we'll meet again, I just need your time_

_I just need your breath, you need to hold on_

_Hold on to the sound of my voice and the sun_

_We cannot run anymore, no_

_No, no, no_

_I know it's been a while, but meet me in the middle_

_Before it's said and done_

_The sun shall rise when it needs to_

_And I'm still forever here_

_I'm still the same."_

John took a hasty, short breath. 

_"I'm still the same,_

_just hold on..."_

There was a small stretch of silence before Eliza immediately started clapping, wiping a single tear from her face. John blushed, pleased with this reaction but also suddenly shy, and Maria smiled too and joined in with Eliza's clapping.

"John!" she cried. "You truly have a gift! This is so, so lovely..."

"I'm impressed." Maria punched his shoulder lightly.

"Ow?"

"Oh, shut up."

Eliza took a tissue from her purse and dabbed her eyes. "Have you shown this to anybody yet?"

"No... besides you two, no."

"It's beautiful," Maria said.

"Indeed! John, people need to hear this! It's so raw and heartfelt. _And_ original."

John snorted. "Thank you, AGT judge."

"Hey, it could be an option in your future."

John shrugged. "I need to figure out the rest of my life first, though." He thought for a moment. "Do you girls want to share anything?"

Eliza blushed and Maria immediately smirked. "Eliza's is absolutely beautiful, too."

"It's... still under construction."

"Pfft," Maria scoffed. She turned to John, smiling. "Eliza's just being modest. It made me cry as much as she did over your song- well, more actually."

John grabbed Eliza's hand. "Pleeease?"

Eliza nodded, taking a deep breath. "Okay." 

So she began:

" _I still hear your whispers..."_

John was already shivering.

" _I still see you perfectly_

_You still appear in my dreams_

_And I wonder, oh I wonder,_

_How could God take thee from me?"_

John caught Maria lowering her head, perhaps already crying. Eliza's voice was soft and sorrowful, her soprano voice clearly ringing through their small area in the back of the theatre classroom. _No, Eliza wasn't supposed to be sad... She helped everyone. God, is it possible we aren't helping her?_

_"The sunshine, the rain, your birthplace_

_How could it all be gone too soon?_

_A promise of life, of love and faith_

_How dare it all be taken away?"_

Eliza lashed out on her next notes before singing more forcefully:

" _God, what have you done?_

_Why leave us in the dark for so long?_

_I was promised, I was made for her and for you_

_but she couldn't make it-_

_I beg, how could she make it to you?_

_Now an angel in the sky and in the ground..._

_That's all my memories allow_

_If I had one last wish, I wish her to be safe_

_Oh, my baby girl's been taken away."_

A pause.

" _I still see her_

_I still hear her_

_I only wish for her to be okay_

_I want to be okay for her_

_God, what have you done?"_

Maria openly wept, and John gaped at Eliza, who's only response for a long time was: "You're not the only one missing family, love." And then they all hugged. Eventually, tears were wiped away and laughter appeared once more. John squeezed Eliza's hand. "Thank you... for sharing that with me."

"And thank you, John, for listening."

Maria wrapped her arms around Eliza. "Should we tell him?"

Eliza nuzzled Maria's cheek and patted her hand. She looked back to John. "Her name was Beth. She was my sister. My _birth_ sister." Her eyes became glossy. "I was, hmm, maybe six when I started asking for a sister. My parents were open to it- I was, in fact, the only child at the time. So, a few months later I got the news. They let me choose a name, and I said Beth- my original name was only Eliza. Together we'd be _Elizabeth_."

John nodded. 

"She, uh... She didn't make it."

There it was. The truth John knew was there but... he couldn't imagine her true pain, what really seemed to be underneath her cheerful, lively surface.

"I... lost a sibling too. It was- well, he died of natural causes but... I feel responsible."

 **_When you've been fighting for it all your life_ **  
**_You've been struggling to make things right_ **  
**_That’s how a superhero learns to fly_ **  
**_Every day, every hour, turn the pain into power_ **

Eliza nodded. "Then we have a lot in common."

"What else happened, if you're okay with me asking?"

Eliza inhaled slowly. "Well. She's buried at our house- in the backyard, under the willow tree. I plucked a few lilac flowers we happened to have in the yard and- and I stood there for the rest of the day, arranging the area and crying and talking to Beth and praying that- that maybe God had mercy." Eliza was choking back sobs now. "I- sorry, you don't deserve this..." John wanted to comfort her, but Maria already had that handled. She embraced Eliza, rocking her back and forth.

Who would've known?

"Later on, my parents adopted Angelica and Peggy. I was so, so excited..." Eliza now smiled, joy and flush coming back to her face. "Angelica was the daughter of a single mom that couldn't provide for her. Peggy never knew her true parents and was still learning English." She then covered her mouth, guilty. "Don't tell Angie and Peggy I told you!"

John laughed, and the tension was erased as the girls joined in. "I promise, Lizzy."

Eliza blushed, clearly affectionate for that nickname. "Maria, would you like to show John your song?"

"Hmm." Maria bit her lip, fumbling with her golden bracelet. "I'd rather not cry anymore today. Maybe tomorrow?"

John nodded, seeing how uncomfortable he was. "That's fine with me. Ah, I'm so sorry to stir up so many _feels_... I should really stop so I'm stable when I'm back in South Carolina."

Maria smiled. "Ah, South C. I remember going to Myrtle Beach as a child. So beautiful."

"Oh, yeah, you're from Florida."

"Correct. The more north you go, the more southern it gets."

John laughed yet again, and Eliza looked pleased but she obviously didn't get it like Maria and he did. She was, after all, born and raised in New York City her whole life. "What are your plans with your family?" she asked politely.

"Mm, well, first I have to go home to father to put all my baggage up and then go through an awkward car ride to our local church in Charleston. Then... back to father's, I guess. I mean, I'll see Emmy and her family too, along with all my aunts and uncles and all that whatnot- but honestly, we don't have any exact plans besides that."

"Are you going to put your activism works on hold?" Maria asked, absentmindedly pushing her hair back.

John frowned. "How do you know that?"

Maria shrugged. "Alex loves talking about you."

John blushed. "Uh, well, yeah. But I'm actually finishing most of it this weekend. _Honestly_ , I should've just waited _after_ my trip... That would've saved a lot of..." He couldn't find the word. Guilt? Deep down, that had to be it, but John wasn't allowing himself to admit it.

"What type of activism?" Eliza asked, now interested.

John took a deep breath. "Well...it _is_ Pride Month."

Eliza's eyes widened and she clapped her hands enthusiastically. "Oh, John! I'm so proud of you! I-" She hugged him fiercely, her lilac-scented perfume becoming much more noticeable. She grinned so brightly even though it seemed like not even two minutes ago she was crying about her deceased sister. "I know how hard that must be for you."

John had never told anyone except Alex the whole story. But he alluded to enough for his friends to get the full picture. Feeling overwhelmed with support and Eliza's feeling of hope she thrust on everyone, John smiled, trying to force back any tears. _No more tears_. "Thanks, 'Liza."

Maria looked softened herself. "That takes balls. You're a hero, man."

John scoffed. "I wouldn't say that."

"But it's true," Eliza agreed. "You've been through so much, but you're slowly opening up! That's beautiful, John. That just shows how much passion and strength you have."

"Hmm. I'd call it stubbornness and hunger for honor."

Maria rolled her eyes, ruffling his hair like a child. "Whatever you call it, you can't deny how far you've come."

 **_All the hurt, all the lies_ **  
**_All the tears that they cry_ **  
**_When the moment is just right_ **  
**_You see fire in their eyes_ **

"Pfft, this is like Tara all over again..." The girls frowned, clearly not giving the reference. "Never mind. I..."

Nothing.

"Look, Mar. We've rendered him speechless!"

"Oh, shush, Betsy."

Eliza giggled. "So you're volunteering at a Pride Fest? How does that work?"

"Just, you know, some minor organization stuff. Hanging decorations. It's...small."

"But powerful," Maria reminded him.

John faintly smiled. "Yeah..." He sighed. "It'll take me a lot more than pretty decorations to be able to face my family, though."

"We're your family, too," Eliza said.

There was a long stretch of silence. John tried to speak, but no words were able to come out. It was true, so painfully true, but... _Gosh,_ no matter how far he comes he always ends up on the same road. _Isn't that how the rest of my community feels, though?_ _Some things can't change_. Hell, John was still the same. But there was something stirring underneath his soul, he felt it. And it terrified the living hell out of him.

"And you know..." Maria said, a hint of speculation behind her voice. "Anyone who can't see how much being with Alex helps you is blind. Hon, that boy loves you. I know you feel some inner tragic emo shit because your still so lost about your sexuality and differences- hell, fucking _mood_ \- but you can't deny Alex makes you _hope_. Makes you justify yourself, even if you still feel a void sometimes. I see it. _Everyone_ sees it. Alex would die for you. You know that, right?"

 **_She's got lions in her heart, a_** **_fire in her soul,_ **

**_He's a got a beast_   _i_** **_n his belly that's so hard to control_ **

**_'Cause they've taken too_ _much_ _hits, taking blow by blow_ **

**_Now light a match, stand back, watch them explode_ **

John took a shaky breath. Hearing it so plainly said was so odd. And it _was_ the gospel truth, and John adored those words but a twinge of bitterness came along with it. Of course Alex loved him, of _course_ John felt the same way. But it's deeper than that, John knew it. It was a love deeper than love. Something more treasured than John's religion and his outside persona he was forced to wear. 

 _I don't even know what I'm saying anymore._ And boom! John was now frustrated. Alexander could've said a whole fucking ballad of their love, but John had so much trouble defining it even though it was _right there_.

"Yes," came his weak reply.

"And I know it sucks being hurt before and feeling like you have to hide the truth from even him-" John looked shocked and tried to protest but Maria pressed on: "Oh, please, I've seen the symptoms of emotional abuse before. Let me talk." And that was final. "But if there's one person you can give all of yourself to, it's Alexander. He's absolutely mad for you."

All this talk of emotions was now driving John crazy like he just stumbled upon all the secrets of the universe and was now trying to remember them all my memory in order to pass some Game of Life. "Uh... Well, shit. That puts things in perspective."

Eliza's laugh brought him back into reality. "I'm sorry, now we've got you thinking too much."

"Nah, it's fine." And he actually laughed. It was somehow real.

"Don't think about it too much," Eliza said, patting his arm. "Clear your mind, relax. Play some piano, whatever. Maria and I are going to leave before it's too obvious we've been here talking the whole time." John nodded and bid them farewell as Eliza grabbed Maria's hand and pulled her off to the side. Maria gave John once last glance and a simple nod, and then they were gone.

 _Maria_ , he concluded, _has been through some serious shit. Well, so have I. And I thank the Lord my soul is not the only one needing saving._

Otherwise, that thought would've disturbed him but now it only gave him comfort.

 _Clear your mind, relax._ Well, he could do so. The hell with home now when instead he could go back to the highly mentioned topic: Alexander. 

He remembered how his friend went from smirking to being flustered and late within a few seconds. His messy ginger bun, his pink cheeks, that smile... He could capture that in a single portrait, he knew he could. John smiled. Art was something Henry didn't exactly understand, especially when it came to John's interest in it that seemed so "feminine". Perhaps drawing his lover (or, you know, future lover, whatever- John highly viewed Alex in this way so it didn't matter) would be one last FUCK YOU, I'M PROUD impulse in awhile. Might as well live it up.

 **_When you've been fighting for it all your life_ **  
**_You've been struggling to make things right_ **  
**_That’s how a superhero learns to fly..._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow that was a lot of emotions 
> 
> "Superhero" by The Script


	7. Love's not Time's fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elaborated fam time with Starbucks and the first goodbyes, not to mention more cheesy references from yours truly and foreshadowing that's extra as heck
> 
> i may have done "too much" but hey it was worth it
> 
> **reposted for minor corrections!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It's been a little bit since I've posted another chapter and my explanation for this was: 1) I went on a mini vacation and 2) I've been inspired by new ideas and I've been trying to make a clear, detailed outline while trying to fit everything together without losing track of the important stuff. All that planning takes time and I've managed to come up with A LOT of new scenes so bare with me!! 
> 
> Thank you for all of those who comment because all the time and effort I put into this means a lot to me so knowing other people care about the story and my writing encourages me to keep going and inspires me to do the best I can. And trust me, starting this fanfic was hard enough, but seeing it blossom without feedback can be frustrating, not to mention all that planning I go through. It would be a lot to hear thoughts and maybe your own ideas. But anyway, we're in a good spot right now! I'll try my best to update often but it may be a little hard. :)

It was a miracle that Alex hadn't fallen asleep on the bus already. After the debate, Angelica offered to drive him home after seeing him itching for a cup of coffee that would immediately have its effect and wake the exhausted student. However, Alex quickly vetoed the idea and mumbled his thanks. There's no way his pride would let himself crash in Angelica's minivan, especially with Peggy who'd still be bouncing up and down with her endless chatter. He couldn't take that now.

So instead he waited for a bus to pick him up and take him to his main street before walking the rest of the way to John. The excitement he felt when King's College was announced the winner of this month's meet was long gone as his only concern became how the hell he'd survive another ten minutes without some sugar and how he'd manage to stay awake, even with the music blasting into his earbuds. _On my way home_ , he informed John via text. John was quick to reply: _Yay! I know you guys did amazing_ followed by tons of emojis. Alex rolled his eyes fondly and closed his eyes. In retrospect, not the best thing to do on a bus with strangers, but momentarily Alex didn't give a damn about any possible consequence. All he wanted was peace.

Suddenly his phone went off again and to Alex's surprise, it was Eliza. Alex frowned. Her text was a simple: _Home safely yet?_

_Safe but not yet home. Did Angelica set you up for this?_

Alex practically felt her hesitation. _No, but she did inform me that the debate was over and you were taking the bus. She said that you were practically the reason KC had an edge on those snobby upstarts. We're both proud of you, Lex._

If Eliza wasn't so sweet and pure, perhaps Alex would've felt irritated that she called him "Lex" and checked up on him like she was some mom.  _Thanks. Angelica kept her head even when us men didn't. Without her, we'd be all losing our minds._

_Ha, yeah! Peggy was glad she could make it. She loves you guys so much._

_And we love her._ The reply wasn't easy, but it was the truth.

_Well, have fun basking in your glory! Best wishes for next time <3_

_Thanks, Liza._

His dear friend circle continued to amaze him constantly with their unconditional support: Peggy's pin, Angelica's respect, Eliza's encouragement, Washington's understanding, Lafayette and Herc's patience, Maria's push. Since day one they were there, and that was saying a lot since Alex was used to being shoved in the background, feeling less than what he was. New York, as he prophesied, was a different life than Nevis. That didn't surprise him. What did was the simple fact he was blessed enough to still abide there after all this time. And now that he had a (more or less) "family" unit? Alex was dumb in reaction.

Suddenly Alex made a connection. _Eliza. Checking on me. Being motherly._ He quickly sent a text to Martha Washington, holding his breath.

How odd it was that Rachel didn't cross his mind like the hurricane that took her? How odd it was that "home" didn't seem so far away?

 _I won't think about it now_ , Alex's inner voice reassured whether he knew or not. _I'll think about it later. Let's move on._

* * *

John's excitement nearly knocked Alex over- literally. As soon as the latter walked in, John was ready to smother him with hugs. "I'm so proud of you!" he said, ruffling Alex's already messy hair. 

"You're so cheesy," he muttered in John's embrace, finding his friend's warmth comforting after such a long day. 

John hummed. "Well, that's what you get for leaving me. To think I had to drive home alone today without your annoying karaoke fests and political rants!"

Alex rolled his eyes. "Don't get used to it."

"Never."

After a few more hugs, Alex announced that he was going to change and rethink his life situation before they hit the road to see Laf and Mulligan. At this, John frowned and followed Alex to their shared room. As Alex began to change, John asked: "You're just tired, right?"

**_I'm trying to hold my breath_ **

"'Tired' doesn't give it justice," Alex said with a small snort, pulling his shirt off and rummaging through his dresser. 

"We can cancel so you can get more rest," John said, worry obvious in his voice.

"Nah, I'll be fine," Alex said with a smile. "This is the one day we can all hang out without exams and deadlines hanging around our heads. I can't miss that, especially when you're leaving so soon." Once a fresh shirt was worn he added: "Besides, how else shall we celebrate my victory? Netflix is great but doesn't fit the occasion."

**_Let it stay this way, can't let this moment end_ **

"Netflix? Not fit the occasion? Why, how dare you!" He added the last bit with an exaggeration of his Southern accent. "After all that time of watching _Young Sheldon_ with you."

"You're extra teasing today," Alex noted as he pulled out some jeans. "Besides, I thought we weren't mocking your roots anymore."

"What's the fun in that? Also, I just thought maybe you needed some lighthearted fun with your bestie before we're invaded by the likes of Laf and Herc."

"Hmm. True."

John paused for a moment, still at the doorway before clearing his throat.

**_You set off a dream in me_ **

"Well, I'll leave you to it. Gotta make sure Mr. Richie Rich isn't blowing up my email."

Alex smirked at the nickname he originally gave Mr. Henry Laurens. "Oh, we'd hate that."

**_Getting louder now, can't you hear it echoing?_ **

After spending a considerable amount of time trying to make himself presentable, Alex grabbed a snack and joined John waiting at the door. "Mmkay, I'm ready." John pushed a strand of hair out of Alex's face and said: "You still look tired, dear."

Alex shrugged. "Let me inhale some caffeine and I'll be good as new."

John laughed and held open the door for Alex. "After you, my pugnacious victor."

**_Take my hand, will you share this with me?_ **

Alex smirked. "To the car that is sadly not my Lamborghini we go!"

**_'Cause darling, here without you..._ **

* * *

Starbucks was a tradition for every student meeting. In fact, it was practiced pretty much religious and not only the friend group but for countless other students nationwide. Specifically, it was used for victories... unless you wanted to count Alex's faithfulness in it alone. _Then_ Starbucks becomes his one and only gospel and haven for comfort that is only inimitable when excluding John's friendship as a whole.

Of course, Lafayette and Herc were early. The two were already in the middle of a conversation in which Lafayette was waving his hands in the air excitedly before he caught Alex's amused eye. The former jumped up and down and pointed the pair out to Herc despite the fact that they were only a few feet away.

"Hi! We were expecting you!" Laf said in his thick French accent. "How've you been?"

Laf's black, curly hair was tied up lazily in a bun and he wore dark sunglasses to block out the sun. Sporting a casual leather jacket and jeans, he definitely took homage to his roots, though it's not like Alex really cared about clothing that much. His usual bright, friendly smile complimented his olive skin tone and Alex could imagine him chilling in some coffee shop in Paris in comparison to New York City's crowded ways.

John laughed. "Pretty good, but lion over here is tired as hell so the quicker we give him coffee the more chance to keep the rest of our sanity."

"Hey!" Alex protested as Laf gave him a brief hug and kissed his cheeks in his traditional greeting. Herc laughed. "And how is that different from every other time?"

" _Well_ ," Alex said as Laf moved on to John, "This time I'm victorious and less uptight... so it's kind of a win."

"Mm." Herc gave Alex and John a handshake before offering to order everyone's drinks. His own attire contrasted to Laf's casual yet cute appearance, and you'd think as a fashion major he'd reflect that in his everyday life. But no, Herc was notorious for simply wearing sweatpants and baggy shirts and beanies pretty much no matter what. He didn't look bad or anything, just _overly_ casual. Why he decided to wear black even though the sun was surely bearing down on his dark skin was a mystery. (It's funny because Alex knew he had more formal clothing and yet he never bothered. But hey, if you're savvy in your industry why be concerned with such details?)

"Ooh! I'll deliver them to us!" Laf said.

"He's been jumpy like this all day," Herc said, rolling his eyes. 

"I'm excited," Laf said with a grin. "Finally, the boys are reunited! It's been too long."

"I can drink to that," John said with a laugh.

Alex whistled. " _Far_ too long."

"So instead of going to the bar we're going to be cheap and basic by drinking Starbucks," Herc said with a mock sigh.

"How dare you," Alex said, clasping his heart.

Herc laughed. "Considering the fact that you're not ranting your entire existence away, I take it the debate went well?"

"Oh, yeah. Close call, but we won. Thank goodness..."

"No insulting Thomas today?" Herc asked and Laf rolled his eyes.

"Nope," Alex asked. "Had enough of him today. Speaking of which, I have some good stories to tell once I get that damned coffee."

"I'm counting on it."

Alex tried to stay awake as Herc and John talked about something random and he was saved by Lafayette returning with everyone's meals. "Now we drink!" he cried. "To Alexander!"

"To Alexander!" Herc and John agreed, and the men toasted as John elbowed Alex's side teasingly. The light in his eyes could only be described as proud, Alex gleefully noted.

"So," Herc said after a swig of coffee. "Tell us all about it."

Alex remembered Washington's email and wondered if the same thing was on their minds.  _I've spoken to the team and to other students in your classes- specifically your friends- and we've all decided that the money we could raise will benefit Puerto Rico's harsh condition in the aftermath of Hurricane Maria. Maybe it'll give you some closure,_ it had said, Surely that meant them too?

Nevertheless, Alex started with the actual debate. "After arriving, we had to wait a bit before the meet could even start because the other school had planning issues or whatever. Though irritating, it gave us plenty of time to rehearse our lines and discuss any other threads of doubt expressed earlier when Washington gave us our pep talk. We were all nervous, though no one admitted it, and honestly, if it weren't for Angelica's cool equanimity we'd probably fall apart at the seams because honestly? Those kids put up quite a fight. We went first, and though we were confident and clear it automatically gave the other team an advantage. But we remained strong and, in the end, all that arguing within our own group and risks were worth it."

Laf frowned. "Risks?"

"Well..." Alex recalled the memory. There was a specific counterclaim their team acquired that would've knocked the opposer's socks off if only they hadn't somehow considered that portion of Angelica's lines. It was supposed to be the zeal that would've guaranteed King College's win. But somehow, that damned school knew. Angelica was pissed off and spent a while cursing under her breath before calmly taking over the stance and firing as many lowkey comments calling BS to the other team's claims, and silently but wisely the others called a timeout.

When Angelica came off that stage Thomas immediately questioned the hell out of her before she snapped. "Get back in line," she hissed. "If we don't get the conclusion of portion C we're through and I won't hesitate to do it myself." That definitely put him back in his place. Though he cursed up more of a storm than anyone else he obliged to Angelica and Alex's combined plan.

With Burr and Angelica on the sidelines, it was up to the unlikely trio of Thomas, Alex, and James to whip up some clever presentation. It didn't happen without its fights, such as Madison muttering his displeasure and Thomas declaring "You suck" to Alex which, otherwise, would have been childish if not for his imperious manner. Alex then turned to Thomas, and without missing a beat retorted: "Well, you choke," before he actually did on his strawberry smoothie in surprise. Victory truly is sweet, he remembered thinking triumphantly. Perhaps God really did listen! (Sure, Burr had his mini-lecture of "Oh, Alexander, you have to behave yourself" and even threatened to strip Alex of his title, but the _true_ Catiline was never a match for Cicero, alas!)

And so King's College's prayer was answered and the team- after a tantalizing long break- was announced the winners and would be next up for the championship.

John burst out laughing at the part with Thomas choking on his smoothie. "Fucking _savage_ ," he complimented. "I stan a king!"

"Oh, how you do flatter me."

"You better hope MJ doesn't kick your ass for that, though," Herc said, reminding Alex of Thomas' notorious look-alike cousin.

"Don't remind me."

"I just don't get why Burr would be so low!" Laf spoke out in surprise. "He's so nice!"

Alex snorted. "Maybe, but he's always been paranoid and jealous. Honestly, I _shouldn't_ be surprised."

John tsk-tsked. "Well, as long as Washington's around he can't do shit to you."

Herc nodded in agreement. "Was he not there to witness all that drama?"

"He had to be on the sidelines. Mentors weren't allowed to help and to make sure no foul play was involved we couldn't even speak to him. He could give us a thumbs up and a nod occasionally, though," Alex said in distaste.

"Hmm. Well, considering the conditions, I'm proud of you." John squeezed Alex's hand and Alex turned pink. "I did _one_ speech..."

"Doesn't matter," John said firmly. "It was enough, and look! You guys can be in the finale."

Laf clapped his hands. "Debate club never seemed so interesting!"

John hummed. "Oh, and how was portion B?"

Alex brightened. "Man, you should've seen Madison's expression when- Wait, how do you know about...?"

Now John smirked. "I may have sort of commented about your complaints to His Excellency..."

Washington's words came back to Alex: _Also, a little birdie told me that you were having concerns about Jefferson and Madison's role in this debate meet? You got your wish._ "That was _you_?" Alex slapped John's shoulder teasingly, and the latter chuckled. "Don't be mad?"

"Oh _please_. Anything to get the portion I rightfully deserved when we were facing so many comebacks! And Burr can't say shit because it's not cheating if you're not the one behind the scenes."

"And it's not a crime unless you get caught," Herc added.

"Exactly."

Laf shook his head. "So vicious, you two."

Alex rolled his eyes. "Well, enough about me. How's your life?"

Laf's eyes brightened. "One of the companies I was seeking employment from answered me back. Now I get to be in their magazine, so that's neat..."

"The sponsoring and brand deals this guy has to go through is _insane_ ," Herc said. "Guess that's the life of a model slash performing arts student."

Laf shrugged, still smiling. "Originally I was supposed to be doing these things in France, but I suppose the surprises New York City offers is effecient...for now."

Alex frowned. "Are you planning on going back, or...?"

"Well," Herc answered for Laf, who cast him a guilty look, "He was considering- of course, months for now, even next year."

Laf nodded. "I miss France," he mused dreamily. "I miss my family. And my home. And the streets I used to roam daily..." He sighed. "I love America (more or less)- don't get me wrong- but I feel guilty being away, like I've been disloyal to a friend... You know? Like, France _raised_ me. It's actually funny, because when I was in France I felt like I needed to be somewhere else- I was ambitious for a new life. But now that I have my new life- and it's great!- I miss home more than ever."

John whistled, putting things into perspective. "That's usually how it goes."

**_All the shine of a thousand spotlights..._ **

Alex considered this. He didn't know what that feeling was like. Ever since he left Nevis, that was that. He never got homesick, unless he was thinking about his mom- but he managed to put her in the back of his mind for years now. New York was his home; he didn't claim Nevis, or St. Kitts or even Rachel's previous expeditions in St. Croix. Sure, he was Creole. He could admit that, and it seemed right to use that as a description of himself. But never once did he ever think about returning. Home is where the heart is, but Alex's "home" took away a piece of his heart by killing Rachel. No way a murderer can be classified as "home".

Laf even glanced at Alex, as if waiting for sympathy in his eyes. There was none. 

**_All the stars we steal in the night sky..._ **

"I miss Ireland," Herc said after a small pause. Laf immediately left Alex's eyes for Herc's, and then narrowed his own. "Really? You don't talk about it often."

"Sure, I didn't live there for a long time," Herc said with a shrug, "but part of me wants to know about where I'm from. See my old house, etc."

Laf nodded. "I get that."

"You guys are making me feel selfish for missing South Carolina, which is only like, what, eleven hours away from New York?"

"10 hours and 39 minutes," Alex recited. "11 hours and 8 minutes from Charleston specifically, though."

John tilted his head fondly. "You've memorized that?"

Alex blushed and looked down at his coffee cup. "Um, yes?"

John laughed. "Damn, Alexander."

Herc hummed. "You're so interested in our lives, but what about you? Any plans while you're in the south?"

John's expression darkened for a moment. "Right into the hard stuff, I see," he muttered. "First, I'm crashing at Dad's. Catch up with him, see my dear horse Becky and all that whatnot before going to church. Then I'm hanging out with my aunts, uncles, cousins and of course Emmy's family. The rest is uncertain for sure but apparently my dad has everything organized. Which is scary, if you ask me."

"You don't seem excited," Laf noted.

"I am," John said defensively. "Just... I don't know. It's weird going back home."

**_(Will never be enough)_ **

Alex held John's hand. "We'll be your moral support."

"I know." John smiled sincerely.

Laf and Herc continued to talk about their positions as students battling with individual jobs as John and Alex listened and occasionally offerd input while silently supporting each other through nothing but touch. As usual, Laf was the cheerful, chattery friend whereas Herc was collective and witty with his replies. John was giving realistic advice but still remained his usual sweet, encouraging self as Alex had a mix of charm and eloquence as well as passionate (and equally fiery) rants when given the opportunity. Somehow, though, Alex could tell there was something different in the air. All this talk of home and family and everyone's life set in stone... it didn't seem quite right. They seemed, more or less, satisfied with what they got and indifferent to their constant fight. _No, John is aware,_ Alex noted, but still. The calm winds and conversations seemed almost ominous than peaceful.

**_This house don't feel like home_ **

Alex couldn't even do his usual routine when his heart tried to take over: push it down and think, then dismiss any improper, wild accusation. Now he could only repeat:  _I won't think about it now. I'll think about it later,_ as many confusing emotions took over his inner whispers of wants almost long forgotten. Only when John continued to caress his wrist and palm did Alex focus on the present, as shivers up built-up energy replaced the past.

**_If you love me, don't let go_ **

**_Hold on to me, 'cause I'm a little unsteady_ **

* * *

"Alright. Text me when you need me to pick you up," John said with a smile. "Have fun, Alexander. I'm going to miss you." Alex's heart clenched in his chest and he immediately wrapped his arms around his friend's taller figure. Tomorrow his dear friend would leave to visit his hometown and family exactly eleven hours and eight minutes away. _Only for a week_ , John had said. They weren't used to being separated, and yes, Alex knew this trip was petty compared to the time Laf left for almost a whole month to return to France, but still, he knew that he'd miss John greatly. He could last a week without him, but worry for John's own wellbeing with a family that didn't completely understand him made him anxious saying goodbye. If anything were to happen to him...

"Oh, Alex," John said, fondness evident in his voice. "You're so sweet. I love you. I'll be okay. Alright?"

Alex nodded. "I know you're strong. Of course you'll be okay. Plus, you have me, so there's not much the world can really do to you without me coming after it in a rage."

John laughed. "I bet. See you in an hour. Tell George I said hi!" The freckled boy squeezed Alex's arms affectionately and, with a smile, returned to his car. Alex's eyes followed him as he drove off and laughed when John paused at the stop sign, honked to get Alex's attention, and waved enthusiastically before becoming completely out of sight. Taking a deep breath, Alex walked up the Washingtons' driveway and knocked on the door.

Martha opened the door and smiled in welcome. She tried to push back her husband's corgi out of the way in vain, nearly tripping over the sand-colored dog in the process. "Cloe!" she chided. "Move to Alex can come in! You can play with him later!"

Alex grinned, petting Cloe. "Did you miss me, darling?"

Cloe barked once and wagged her tail.

"She's always loved you," Martha said cheerfully. 

"I, uh, bought Cloe and Skittles some pet treats before I came..."

"How kind of you!" Martha said as she made room for Alex to come in. As formal and fabulous as always, Mrs. Washington wore a purple v-neck top adorned with a mint green scarf which matched her pencil skirt. She wore simple black flats and a single bronze bracelet, and her dark hair was tied up messily in a bun. Her warm, friendly nature and broad figure always had a strange comforting effect on Alex that he could never explain. Simply put, he enjoyed her company and- even more astonishing- the feeling seemed overall mutual. "Skittles is in the back with George. Poor man, that bird won't shut up for the life of anything!" she said lightheartedly in her thick Virginian accent. "Do you need anything at all, hon? A snack perhaps?"

"No, I'm good," Alex said with a chuckle. "But thank you, ma'am."

Her dark amber eyes twinkled. "Alright, hon, but if you need anything at all do tell! Also, George is busy but I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you greeted him real quick." Alex nodded and made himself upstairs to the back room he knew as Mr. Washington's "work area" in contrast to the married couple's shared bedroom solely for sleeping. Compared to the rest of the house which was lively, bright and scattered with cute, colorful knick-knacks that fit the beach theme, the workroom was empty and dull consisting of one painting, desk, and electric fan. He had overheard Martha fuss over the room before, insisting her husband to decorate but George simply shrugged. "Don't want to be _too_ comfortable," was his reasoning but Alex suspected he simply didn't want to bother with it.

Alex tentatively knocked on the door. "Good evening, sir," he said.

George turned around from his computer and, upon taking off his reading glasses, smiled. "Alexander! Nice to see you. How's it going, son?"

Alex swallowed any bitterness he felt toward the word "son" and said: "Very well, thank you for having me."

"Of course, you're welcome any time. I'll be down in a minute so we can hang out and all that whatnot."

"Got it. May I give Skittles a treat?"

"Treat!" screeched Martha's parrot, and George sighed with amusement. "Might as well, before she repeats it until my sanity goes to oblivion."

Alex snickered and held out his palm for Skittles. "There's a good gal," he mused. "Have you been taking good care of George and Martha?"

"Good care of George and Martha!" Skittles confirmed with a squawk. 

Martha now stood in the doorway- which had no door. "Alex! I almost forgot! Let me show you something." She led him to a door that opened to the backyard and sat down in her favorite chair, right next to the grill and her flower pots. "See that ginger cat over there?" She pointed to the far right, where a cat was messing with some toy feather. "I just got him a few days ago. Guess who I named him after."

"Hmm. Obama?"

"Ha! No."

"Um... Justin Timberlake?"

"You amuse me."

"Uh... Michael Jordan?"

"You're terrible at this."

"I'm aware."

" _You_ , Alexander!"

"Wait... really?" Alex laughed. "A tomcat named Alex?"

"It's accurate, is it not?" Martha raised an eyebrow as Alex took another glance at the cat, who narrowed its eyes at the stranger.

"Ha, I can't deny." He sat down in the chair next to Martha as she absentmindedly twisted the beads on her bracelet. She spoke up: "I found the cat after I went grocery shopping. The poor thing was near the dumpsters, trying to fend off some dog. He was so skinny and obviously unhealthy, but he refused to be helpless. And guess what? Mister over there won the battle! I know there are plenty of wounded animals roaming the streets if you just look hard enough- but _this_ one, the one I did find, started to follow me. So I thought, 'Why not?' Of course, I was scared I'd get rabies or something if he'd bite me but so far he's behaved. It's not like I'm going to irritate him anyway. If he wants to see me, I'll let him come close. If not, then fine, as long as he's not on the streets, we're fine." She smiled. "Perhaps it's a metaphor for life if you think about it."

 **_(And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones_ **  
**_'Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs)_ **

"Well, now it makes more sense that you named it Alex. A young, scrappy and hungry little thing like him."

"You should have seen George's face when he heard that I named him after you! So priceless. But of course he complied."

"Very interesting..." Alex didn't know if he should feel flattered or uncomfortable, so he decided to just accept it.

"I heard George was very proud of you after the debate."

Alex turned his head so she wouldn't see his blush. "I hope so, anyway," he said with a chuckle.

"And _I'm_ proud that you're captain now!"

"Thanks, ma'am. It didn't do me much use a week ago but I think people are starting to take a notion."

Martha sighed as if recalling a memory. "Sometimes it happens like that, yes? So used to being the underdog and when you finally take your shot people don't know how to react. Give it time, and things will work out."

Alex nodded. "I appreciate it. You have experience?"

"Heh. Well..." She fiddled with her scarf. "When I was younger, I didn't know what I wanted in life. I had four other siblings who all had their 'thing'. As the youngest, well, I certainly didn't know. We come from a long line of war vets and doctors and lawyers. All I wanted to do in life was sing! Joined my school's choir and everything. Even then I wasn't ever really put on the spot. As I got older, I realized that I really did enjoy law and studied to be a lawyer. I had to deal with many deaths in the family- the hardest to get over being my grandma, who was kind of like my other guardian since I never really knew my father. I didn't let that or other people in the field put me down. I kept going. I was ambitious, and sometimes that was my fault, but I didn't let that stop me. And, well, look at me now. I'm a retired lawyer and now I work with children choirs. You can't tell me I didn't get what I wanted in life. Now I have a faithful, loving husband and many friends and family to take care of me and vice versa. The only thing I could possibly ever want now is a child, but..." She suddenly blushed. "Is this too much for you, Alex? I do apologize for rambling on."

Alex's mind was now a whirl of information and connections. "No, no, you're fine! I'm-I'm glad you told me, Martha... I mean! Mrs. Washington."

Martha shook her head and smiled, perhaps amused. "Always with your formalities. You can call me anything you'd like- whether it be ma'am, Mrs. Washington, Mammy, Martha... As long as it's not simply 'lady' or my original name Meredith."

Alex smiled as the nerves ceased. "Thanks... _Meredith_."

"Oh, I'll get you for that."

"Martha!" George called from inside. "What do you want for dinner?"

The wife rolled her eyes. "God knows he can't cook," she said to Alex. "Coming, honey!"

*

As Martha cooked dinner, George took advantage of his time and chatted up a storm with Alex. Their topics of choice ranged from the debate to politics outside of their own, rants about everyday things, financials, memories and gossip. Once George whispered: "I don't fuck with three things: Long grocery lines, buying cars and Donald Trump."

"Language!" Martha called from the kitchen. "Unless you're talking shit about Mr. Trump. Then you can say whatever you want. Same thing goes to you, Alex!"

Alex chuckled. "So, you don't cook?"

"I only make pancakes and grill out. Most of the time I burn things, plus I've never had the patience. Martha in there is my hero."

"Thanks, honey!" she called.

Alex hummed. "I can't really cook either. One time I was trying to create this Creole dish for my birthday with Laf, Herc and John... Didn't end well. We had the directions and everything. The only person who can decently cook is Laf between us four."

George laughed. "With directions- if I actually read everything and tried- I could perhaps be decent. But eh..." He took another drink of his large bottle of tea. "Back to the debate. We're so close to winning the title. I don't mean to make you anxious or anything- but I was thinking... maybe you'd have extra time on your hands this week since John's leaving to look through the outline of our next meet topic?"

Alex smirked. "I'm up for the challenge."

"As captain, I thought you'd be."

"Do you have it right now?"

"Not a hard copy yet. Still editing- but I can send you what I've got. I actually need a second opinion on the center of the argument; there's quite a bit to choose from. I'd like to hear your opinion."

"Of course, sir."

"Oh, and don't forget to tell John my best wishes. Coming back to the south is always an adventure, especially if you've lived in New York for a considerable amount of time."

"I bet! Just imagine his first time here. I remember when I got here from the Caribbean... so crowded. I was not used to that at all." Alex frowned. Why'd he mention that? No one needed a reminder of his background, _especially_ not himself. Odd, he was usually careful about these things... Right? _Maybe I should be more cautious,_ but what was the relevance of that? 

Martha practically saved him from digging his hole deeper. "Okay! I'm taking a break in here with you guys for a bit."

"Of course, Martha!" George smiled lovingly at his wife.

Alex flashed the most charming smile he could at the moment. "The pleasure's ours, of course."

"Quite into flattery, so I've learned."

"It's a way of life, as I say."

Counterfeits are hard to pull off, but those exposed to its advantages learn to manipulate them for the better. Perhaps they're false, but there were truths in every hidden intent engraved in those words.

 **_And if you're in love, then you are the lucky one_ **  
**_'Cause most of us are bitter over someone_ **

"Hmm. More of an objective fan." She winked at Alex. "But I know within you're authentic with that flowery tongue."

Tired relief- but relief nonetheless- let Alex breathe normally again. He smiled, almost ashamed, but ultimately thanked the God he didn't believe in for these childless parents.

* * *

*

*

*

*

*

Throughout eons and eons of Time, humanity's very footprints marked the universe, their traces only being physically existent through documents- and sometimes within rebirth.

*

 **_Well I've heard there was a secret chord_ **  
**_That David played and it pleased the Lord_ **  
**_But you don't really care for music, do you?_ **  
**_Well_ _, it goes like this:_ **  
**_The fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift_ **  
**_The baffled king composing Hallelujah_ **

*

"Look at them!" cried a voice that was more of a vibration, an echo. "They look rather fetching! Different, but alas, that's how it goes. How timeless: a story of forbidden love, star-crossed lovers." The voice laughed to itself, finding a hidden joke in their own words.

"How you do go on," mumbled another voice, distinctly male. "I've seen the likes of them repeat many times before. This is nothing new."

Suddenly the former transformed in a whirl of vivid color and light. The appearance of choice was a humanoid figure: overall androgynous with a face and body that changed fluidly depending on one's perspective or nature. In a more feministic voice, the latter chided: "What a downer you can be! Yes, it is true there are quite many who can relate to such a tragic, beautiful story- How can you tell Love itself otherwise, who's been the main witness of Time's experiments?"

The figure fabricated as well, huffing. His appearance, too, was fluid. He paused, knowing Love would continue their lecture:

"But they're fresh, unique, kind of the 'OG' in a way. They're..." Love clapped their hands. " _Revolutionary_!" Love giggled at their own joke yet again as Time rolled his eyes, waiting for Love to continue with barely concealed impatience. "Two men in such deep affections during a time when such nature was discriminated. Sure, definitely not the first, but well documented- more or less. But there's a reason why they happen to be the ones to survive- Why, there's a reason for _everything_!"

"Are you going to continue your philosophy or are you going to explain to me why you brought me here?"

Love tsk-tsked. "So grumpy! Look." They showed the image of Alex returning home, laughing at some awful joke John had as they got ready to watch a Netflix marathon with each other. "You must recognize them, yes?" 

Love suddenly took the appearance of a young man with a strong, lean figure. His blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail and his pale blue eyes looked hauntingly longing for something that was no longer there. He wore the common uniform of a Revolutionary- an American one, to be exact.

 **_(But baby I've been here before_ **  
**_I've seen this room and I've walked this floor_ **  
**_You know, I used to live alone before I knew ya_ **  
**_And I've seen your flag on the marble arch_ **  
**_And love is not a victory march_ **  
**_It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah)_ **

Time found himself in the 1700s. "Of course I recognize a conflicting, heroic figure. Quite daring was he, yes, that I remember. No matter how long I persisted it took a fair few rounds- in mortal countings- for Death to claim him. Too bad his legacy wasn't impressive."

"This one... oh, a tragedy! Died too soon. After Yorktown was the best I could give him. I may have burdened him with the source of his pain, but you could never cooperate." Love was now in their previous form, smiling sweetly.

"This was our compromise," Time warned with a threatening tone.

Love hummed. "And what about this one?" She was now a shorter man, with the same uniform but with auburn-red hair that was unkept and sharper features. His violet eyes looked hungrily at Time, as if expecting something. He tried to smirk but it couldn't last, and he aged before Time's eyes.

Startled, Time looked at Love with questioning eyes who, yet again, changed back. "Perhaps he's the real tragedy," Love muttered. "He could have at least been with his sweetheart. But alas, his last letter- so hopeful, so earnest compared to his later works- never reached the former, hmm?" Love's expression darkened. "Restless and unsatisfied his heart laid, in the darkness without that silver lining that could've been if only.... Ha!" The words were bitter. "If only, if only..."

" _Your_ witchcraft is what causes humanity pain!" Time cried. "Do not blame this on me."

Love smiled cruelly. "Perhaps. But... At least it's never boring."

"What is your point, Tyrant?" Time spat.

" _I'm_ the Tyrant? Says Mister Control Freak himself." Love suddenly shrugged, throwing their hands up in the air with a dismissive smile. "I've come to give a warning- and I can't do that without you, for we work hand-in-hand, yes?"

"I suppose..."

"O hark! O hear: mark my words, for as usual they are complicated and controlling. May the fates of these two tied souls be, as they were, regarding their challenges of acceptance- both externally from society and within themselves, for humanity is always needy and selfish and yearning for a passion they cannot tame or conquer by any means- but perhaps more exposed to the discovery one can only make through another, and never alone, never isolated." Love's form flickered like a candle burning out, sometimes a heavenly copy and sometimes their own inner monstrosity. "Though passion be a prison, it is a sweet escape. Fear only Fear itself and then they should ordain their wholeness. One's mission of owning and giving love in spite of guilt will become one's mission of learning _how_ to love and trust in spite of Death. May the odds be ever in these men's favor."

Time took a shaky breath. "They have died."

Love raised an eyebrow. "Do they look dead to you?"

"Would you like me to relocate us to their graves?"

"What a constant theme in this story! Very unlucky. Must run in the family, you know... Miss Faucette had very little grasp on my powers. I guess all humans do, but some are especially oblivious." Love waved him off. "Just you wait. Here's one story you don't want to miss. Oh, Happiness! Oh, Joy! You have long been gone and yet you still exist silently in Hope! Why, humans are so petty when compared to the cosmos, don't you think?"

"You have no idea."

"Hmm. I do for Love is eternal."

"Then why mention it?"

Love sighed. "It just amazes me how these things go over people's heads!"

Time glanced back into Love's image of the pair. Already intertwined, but in their physical worlds back to phase one. Who would've thought they'd still exist after hundreds of years of waiting? 

"Indeed."

**_Maybe there's a God above,_ **

**_but all I've ever learned from love_ **

**_is how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya..._ **

*

*

**_And it's not a cry that you hear at night;_ **

**_it's not somebody who has seen the light!_ **

**_It's a cold and it's broken Hallelujah..._ **

*

*

_"Say Amen."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *glances at my endless amount of notes and hypothetical situations* um
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/10047407/chapters/22384502 <\-- My inspiration for the Love/Time metaphor. Such a wonderful read (especially the end)! <3  
> http://www.presidentialpetmuseum.com/blog/george-washington-dogs/ All of Washington's pets, plus Martha's parrot too. Fun fact: He really did have a hound named Cloe.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LRP8d7hhpoQ Amazing cover of "Hallelujah"
> 
> songs used:  
> "Never Be Enough" from The Greatest Showman soundtrack (Loren Allred)  
> "Unsteady" by X-Ambassadors  
> (...these are foreshadowing + redundant on purpose jsyk)  
> "Youth" by Daughter  
> "Hallelujah" by Jeff Buckley
> 
> .


	8. the epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But that's just how the story unfolds  
> You get another hand soon after you fold  
> And when your plans unravel in the sand  
> What would you wish for, if you had one chance?  
> Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?  
> I could really use a wish right now...  
> *
> 
> John arrives in South Carolina. Revelations and angst ensure after the countless fluffy scenes.  
> (Also, there are heavy religious themes near the end of this chapter and if it's hard to follow look back at the last chapter's ending. It'll make more sense.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter- and honestly the rest of this arc- is dedicated to my friend, Shelly, who helped me figure out a few plot holes when I was brainstorming ideas for this chapter and beyond <3 Thank you so much and good luck with your own writing!! You're absolutely amazing.
> 
> buckle up, kids. you're in for the second arc of this story. and yeah, more personal/individual ish happening. i did say this was a slow-burn. plus, they're all for theme-building. you know

John woke up in a panic, heart fluttering wildly in his chest like a caged bird wanting to be set free. Lucky for him, Alex didn't have his usual tight grip around John's arm torso, so he had more freedom to properly react to the sudden confusion his brain was going through. He breathed heavily, closing his eyes and muttering "Oh, my God," before clasping his hands tightly together to shake off the nightmare, quickly fading from memory. What had happened? There was a vague feeling of an echo... a hum, like someone's voice. But he didn't recall a single person nor recognize any image. 

He glanced at Alex, somehow still asleep in spite of the interruption. Calming his heart rate and breathing, he ran a hand through his own dark, tangled hair and gently took hold of Alex's hand. This time the latter stirred, mumbling something with an unusually soft tone. To John's relief, Alex squeezed his hand back.

 _This is your last morning with this prince charming for a week_ , John reminded himself, wincing. He suddenly had a desire to flip onto his side and cradle Alex while he still had the chance, but the anxiety that had been building up ever since he heard Henry's news finally began to be taken a toll on his focus and confidence. After that odd dream, the morning seemed too still and too bright to be the exact day he had to part ways with Alex for the first time. John had to look at Alex's peaceful expression to calm himself, and a since of hope draped over him and took the burden off his shoulders ever so slightly.  _Alexander will take care of you. And... it's only for a week._

John smiled, finally turning to Alex and slinging an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Hey, love," he said. "Time to get up." He didn't want to interrupt the peace but he needed as much time as possible to physically be with Alex, one of his only fortified support systems. 

Alex sighed a little, and John's heart went wild for a whole other reason. "Mm wha's happening..."

"Alexander, it's the morning."

"Mm?"

"You need to wake up so we can be idiots with each other before I, you know... leave." John didn't want to upset Alex with such a blunt statement, but nevertheless he cupped Alex's cheek and playfully shoved his knee into Alex's thigh, who yelped in response. Alex opened his eyes at that, the first thing he saw being John's lit up expression, a faint but noticeable blush forming across his freckled cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Alex's eyes trailed over John before smiling and stretching. "Is this the type of wake up call I get?" he asked in his rough New York accent, deep from just waking up.

John smiled sweetly. "Yep." And he kicked Alex again.

"Hey!" Alex took his hand away from John's and swatted his shoulder. He shoved John's hip with his own knee and smirked in triumph when John gasped in shock. Just everyday proof that Alex can go from an angel to Satan within seconds.

"Fuck you," John muttered with a grin, and Alex stuck his tongue out.

"That's what you get for being a rude Johnny."

"Mm." John grabbed Alex's shoulder and forced him down into the pillow. "You're only doing this so I can remember this torture when I'm gone, hmm?" The own deepness of his voice surprised him, and he almost didn't recognize it as his own. Before he could feel guilty and hate himself for it, Alex smiled and did the whole looking-through-your-eyelash look that sent heat throughout John's body. As if love itself was the real goddamn torture.

"Oh, Jacky," Alex mumbled, though it was purposely loud enough for John to hear. John inwardly cursed as Alex continued: "You're going to remember _a lot_ of things when I'm done with you."

John held his breath and then shakily exhaled. Alex somehow kept all his composure, with those dark eyes still basked in that teasing gleam. There was a rosy undertone to his cheeks, and John tried with all the willpower he had in his very essence not to stroke Alex's beautiful body that was so accessible for he was _right there_ , underneath John. Honestly, how did the _I have no chill whatsoever_ Alexander keep agonizingly still when John was physically _shaking_ in excitement for something that couldn't even happen?

**_I can hold my breath_ **

He averted his eyes, swallowed, and tried to laugh. "You're so difficult," was the only thing he could utter, as the strong hold he had over Alex weakened and the tension from his chest dropped to a faint shiver.

Alex sensed his change in mood and said: "Hey," with softness so tender to the ear. "You're going to be okay. You're strong, John. Don't be nervous." If he meant the obvious cowardness John had when facing their unresolved sexual tension or the fact he was going to return to a not-so-understanding household, John couldn't distinguish, but either way, he didn't elaborate and didn't push John any further. He sat up, stretched again, and with a smile offered for the two to have breakfast.

**_I can fake a smile_ **

A wonderful distraction. Better since Alex was a very eloquent speaker who immediately captured your attention if he wanted it. With usual charm and humor, he made John's spirits rise yet again and all doubt faded until it was completely in the back of John's mind. _New day, fresh beginnings. We can make this work._

Alex continued to talk up a storm, and it's not that John was bored but he simply zoned out in the middle of Alex's passionate conversation. He took that time to simply appreciate their life together in their small New York home. Their bed, their Netflix, their work areas. The feeling John had when he knew he could tell Alex practically anything- even if there was a lot John was totally unprepared to confess. John smiled. Time and time again proved that nothing could truly tear them apart after their many trials. So why worry now?

It took John a full five seconds for him to realize Alex had suddenly stopped speaking, a silence filling the space between them. "Are you okay?" Alex asked, bordering on worry and genuine interest.

"Yeah. Just gonna miss you," he admitted. "The reality of going back home... It's kind of insane." John chuckled nervously, twirling the straw in his orange juice glass.

_**I can dance and play the part if that's what you ask** _

Alex absentmindedly tapped his fingers on the kitchen table, head tilted and brows furrowed- the look he had when contemplating some big speech of advice and whatnot. Usually, there was no need for him to think- he usually spoke so brashly, and it was what everyone was used to. He then hummed, a humble smile on his lips. "I'm going to miss you too, _obviously_ ," he said, that humor coming back. "Just... whatever happens, keep in mind that I've got you. For now and for forever."

John rolled his eyes, taking another sip of his drink. "Dork."

Alex laughed, suddenly shy when he met John's eyes.

"But yes, I'll keep that in mind. When I'm frustrated I'll think of our fun." He winked and kicked Alex's ankle as payback.

Alex began to whine half-heartedly and went on a mini-rant about personal space, and John simply laughed. He'd miss this, but God, he had so much to live for.

_**Give you all I am** _

*

The majority of their time was spent talking aimlessly about random things and helping John pack the rest of his needed requirements for his one week visit. "Why couldn't you pack this yesterday?" Alex asked, teasing his unpreparedness. John shrugged. "I knew it would be amusing for you to help me."

"Ah, so this was for me to do all your chores, basically," Alex quipped.

"Kind of," John said with a grin.

Eventually, John resorted to packing his endless posters and drawings he hung up on the walls inside their bedroom. Alex frowned. "What are you doing? I kind of need these to feel like you're here and nothing's changed," Alex said with a chuckle. John rolled his eyes fondly. "I need something to decorate my own room back at Dad's. Those walls are white and bare and even as a kid I couldn't stand it." John looked over his shoulder at his friend sitting crossed-legged on their bed, idly tying his hair back in a ponytail, eyes meeting John's eagerly. "I need a splash of color, frankly. Don't worry, I'll keep some for you, since you insist."

"Good. I was about to pout- because you strangely fall for that."

John laughed. "Reminds me of your inner child."

"Mm. Says the man with coloring sheets on his walls."

"I'm getting you for that," John warned half-heartedly. "Which ones do you want to keep?"

"Hmm." Alex stood up, walking around the perimeter of the room. "You'd miss the turtle drawings too much, so you can have all of those."

"I'll give you _one_ , to make you feel better."

"Aw, thanks." Alex fanned himself in a flattering manner and John laughed yet again. "You can also keep the lion. Remind yourself of me."

"And the lion onesie Laf bought you last Christmas," John said with a smirk.

Alex narrowed his eyes. "You vowed never to speak of that," he deadpanned.

John held out his arms in an open embrace. "I know. But I'm your best friend, so the rules are loose when it regards me, alas."

Alex gladly accepted the embrace, tucking his head underneath John's chin. He playfully dug his nose into John's neck and exhaled a short puff of breath to tease him. "How many more hugs am I getting?"

"As much as you want," John mused, one arm around Alex's waist and the other on his nape. He spoke into that fiery hair he adored, lips brushing Alex's forehead in a tender, gentle way. "I'll keep you posted on everything. I'll call you each night- if I can."

"Okay," Alex mumbled, his own lips a ghost on John's neck. "I'm going to severely make fun of your heavy Southern accent, though."

"How long do you think it'll take for me to get to that point?"

"Within a day."

"I'm quoting you on that."

"I'm betting five dollars."

"Oh, hon. Keep the money."

Alex hummed in amusement. John could feel his smile. "I'll update on the debate."

"Gotcha. I'll be cheering you on all the way from Charleston."

"I want a picture of Becky. Please."

"I knew you'd grow fond of my horse."

"Only because it's _your_ horse."

John broke the embrace to ruffle Alex's hair. "You distracted me on purpose."

"Well, you fall for it." Alex still smiled up at him.

"Indeed..." _It's going to be so terribly odd to leave him._  "Well, let's pack these posters so I'm not late. Then we can have a quick lunch together."

"Always a gentleman." Alex squeezed his hand with one last smile.

*

Now the two stood hand-in-hand, outside their small house with John's many bags scattered at their feet. They took in the bright sun, the warm breeze. A beautiful day- too bad they now had to part ways.

"There has to be, like, some shitty metaphor in this scenario, right?" Alex asked abruptly, breaking the silence.

John chuckled softly. "It's less of a scenario now, for I'm actually leaving."

"Yes, yes, but still." Alex tilted his head and looked into John's warm eyes. "The winds of change are around us, love."

"Nothing's actually changing," John reminded Alex with a slightly chiding tone. 

_**I can hold the weight up worlds if that's what you need** _

Alex blinked rapidly as if the sun was burning his eyes- which wasn't an option, for he faced away from the sun and was still gazing fondly at John. It had a hint of longing as if John was vanishing before the scholar's eyes. It took John a few whole seconds to realized tears were actually swelling up in his friend and lover's eyes.

"Oh, Alexander," John said in his usual sweet tone. He pulled Alex close, who inhaled John's scent like it was oxygen he needed to survive. "I love you."

"I know."

"And you love me."

"Of course..." Alex was wiping away his tears and gave John a smile like _I'm okay, see? Nothing to worry about..._

"I will return."

"That is ominous."

"Oh, shush, and let me hold you like a good friend." John hugged the shorter man tighter.

"A wonderful, lovely friend," Alex mumbled his correction. "The Horatio to my Hamlet!"

John shook his head, though amused. "All my roads lead back to you. Don't worry."

Alex laughed suddenly, and to John's relief, it wasn't a hollow, bitter one. It was sheepish as if he now broke out of his worrisome trance. "I know. I'm being silly. But gosh..." He smirked now, eyeing John's- well, everything. "I'll miss this figure," he admitted, then reached up to tug John's hair. "And everything else, of course. You can take pleasure in knowing you are the only one I've ever let haunt me."

John smiled, though it faded for a moment as John scanned Alex's face.

**_Be your everything_ **

"Well? Speak, love," Alex teased.

"Dear boy," John said earnestly, "an epiphany has struck my heart."

Now Alex looked thoroughly intrigued. "Oh? Keep going..." His small, thin hands snaked to John's wrist, much to his own endearment.

"Well... Let's say I wish this haunting you speak of brings you nothing but the most warmth one can provide to another's heart."

"How damn poetic," Alex mumbled before lightly kissing John's cheek. "Is this all?" he asked softly.

John grinned, ruffling Alex's hair again which turned into a play fight they had in their own driveway. Eventually, John wrapped his arms around Alex's waist and held him as the latter nearly fell to his knees with giggles and whines. He nuzzled Alex's neck, saying: "I'm going to be late because of you. You're lucky I tolerate you."

Alex suddenly looked up (or sideways, considering their position) at John with eyes merry for someone who was about to say his final goodbyes. "You love me."

"I love you," John confirmed. He let go of Alex and they hugged one last time, a tight and lengthy hug that made their hearts wild and breath irregular in excitement. John didn't bother with _When I come back_ or _Promise me..._ for those lines never ended well in the classics. But, he didn't need to anyways. What had to be said was already said, and actions were now taking control to speak in a language only they could understand with each other. 

"You're a dork."

"I'm _your_ dork."

John smiled, waved, and made his way into his car to go to the airport. He blissfully still felt and heard Alex, all the way to Charleston. _All roads lead back to you..._ What an ending, he thought. I'm sure I've heard that melody before.

(Alex never understood John's whole epiphany-at least then- but he could guess. Besides, deep down, he figured he knew.)

* * *

When John finally made it to the Charleston airport, Emmy definitely kept her promise.

He wasn't intentionally looking for her; He hadn't known she was going to show up at all. John happened to be scanning the other few passengers when his eyes landed on that familiar short, curly blonde hair and blue eyes. To confirm she was who he _thought_ she was, she waved cheerfully in that signature smile that could only belong to childhood bestie Martha Manning.

He gaped with a shocked smile spreading across his face and beckoned her Emmy to come over. Her expression lit up and she jogged to him.

"Ta-da!" she cried. "I _told_ you I'd have a surprise for you."

"Well, hell, Em," John muttered as they shared a quick hug. "I thought you were going to buy me something. Guess over the years you've gotten cheaper."

"Ha!" She tugged at her white sleeves. " _Sooo_ , you excited?"

"As much as I'll ever be," John said, puffing out his chest to feel braver than what he was. "I'm seeing father first, staying the night, and then I'll see y'all at church."

"Plus our own visit with each other."

"Yes, that was highly noted."

Emmy grinned. "I'll help with the luggage now. Then I'll drive you to Henry."

The two made small-talk, including Emmy's own account regarding the news of the intertwined Laurens-Manning family. They only knew each other because their families happened to be business allies in the city, and since Henry kept all his friends (and enemies) more or less close, they spent a lot of time with each other, even as kids. It was amusing for John to reflect on it, since his most cherished memories in childhood belonged to two special ladies: Eleanor and Martha, the latter having all the qualities of the former and thus easily winning John's affections. (Also, he is forever haunted by his young, silly self that once proclaimed Emmy as his "wife"; he never heard the end of it. No wonder everyone expected them so eventually get married, or some shit.)

"Everyone is so excited to see you!" Emmy said. "They're all expecting stories and such of your new life in the Big Apple." She nudged his side teasingly. "Speaking of which... How's the ever so beloved Alexander?"

John turned red. "You tease, Martha."

"Because I love you and you two together!"

John began having flashbacks again. "Well, the parting wasn't too emotional, so that's a plus. He took it well- though he's going to miss me dearly."

"Of course."

"And I'm surely going to miss him. Who'll help me stay sane?"

"Me, dummy," Emmy said, squeezing John's arm reassuringly.

"Thanks, Em."

"That's what a sister's for."

John smiled. He liked the sound of _sister_. That definitely beats _wife_ or _girlfriend_. The title could only belong to Martha; she was always there for him. If only their family could get their minds around that without merciless teasing.

Once they hopped into Emmy's car, John asked: "Is Henry okay?"

"Yep!" She suddenly frowned, as if a realization hit her. "He's glad you're home, Jack."

 _That nickname that always comes back,_ John thought fondly. He could imagine she added it in not just to reassure him, but to show it was a _specific_ thing Henry had added when they discussed John's arrival. If Henry still lightheartedly annoyed John, then maybe he truly had nothing to worry about.

"I'm glad to hear that." John exhaled.

"You know... You truly are the only thing he talks about- besides business."

 _John over business? A miracle!_ But in all seriousness, the idea abated a lot of anxiety. Henry's words of legacy had always haunted him, pressured him to become something he wasn't and never would be- not in hundreds of years, and more. Yet he couldn't show he wanted to be, or who he truly was. That could lead to chaos, anger, disappointment. _Isolation_. John shivered everytime he thought of it. It was simply a fate he imagined so much he could live it through his mind vividly, as if some forgotten abstract, some _warning_ was trying to make itself known. He never wanted to let anyone down, so he swallowed his deadly hubris and bitterness and went through everything to prove- or at least _seem_ \- like he was exactly who everyone wanted him to be. He almost convinced himself.

But it had always felt wrong. So hearing Henry was still loving (even if not understanding) and eager (even if ignorant)... it was a small thing that made all the difference. Eleanor had been pleased. Henry had always been somewhat of a stranger to John. He was always closer to mother- even when she was dead. Henry was pragmatic, cool and analytical. Charismatic but strictly business-like. He always carried himself with pride. There was some inner monologue, but John never knew what it could be. John had a suspicion for their shared fates, yet he could never come up with an explanation. 

But nevertheless, he cared for his father. They talked a lot. Ever since Eleanor died... Henry was more clingy. But more foreign than before. The father and son duo danced around each other's feelings and instead shared thoughts- though definitely not the more personal ones. There was boarder they both crossed. But it was the biggest enigma John had ever faced, and he by no means wanted to solve it soon. Henry was still a box John needed to check. No matter the costs.

"Deep down, I suspected so. In spite of... everything." John now smiled, all hints of doubt gone. "Well, I'm personally curious to know how's he's been holding up in his own words. The way he turns everything into some conspiracy is amazing, honestly." 

Emmy laughed. "A great guy- big heart and a big soft side if you get to know him, if only he didn't try to be so practical _all_ the time."

"Just shows you how much of opposites we truly are," John said.

Calm, blue eyes met John's. Sometimes he wanted to know exactly what those blue eyes were thinking; it was a thing about Emmy that always struck curiosity in his heart. "One day you're going to figure out that you're a lot alike than what you realize," she said, as if it was some Greek oracle. She smiled, though it was ominous. 

 "Well, what about you? How's college going?"

Emmy winced and shrugged. "Hard. I mean- I'm going to be a nurse. So. You can imagine." She sighed. "I want to complete my education, but I don't know... Sometimes I feel as if there's something else I'm meant to do."

"Oh, I know that too well," John said, vivid memories of the volunteer work he went through during an NYC Pride Fest. If his family knew he was there and not church volunteering... That would be terrifying, to say the least.

"I'm glad you understand, John. All my other friends seem so satisfied with what they're doing. Me? I've always been confused," she said with a faint laugh. "But, life with the family is good. Strange that most people have been in the same place their whole lives and get tired of it. I personally cannot imagine leaving South Carolina. _But_ I do applaud your leap of faith. You know, that's one thing I've always admired you for."

"In spite of my questioning relationship with God?"

Now, Emmy was straight, so seeing John's full conflict was hard and there were things she couldn't possibly feel to the extent John does. But she knew very well who he was and how badly his fears affected him. She frowned, glancing at John once more. "There are many kinds of faith," she said simply. As if it _was_ simple. "And many forms of strength. Trust me, I had to learn that, too. Though I certainly do not compare to the heroic Jack!"

This made John smirk. Good, optimistic Emmy. She knew exactly how to comfort someone, even when compared to Eliza. (But then again, Emmy knew John more anyway so that shouldn't have been a surprise.)

 _Save all your feels for church_ , John reminded himself briefly. And so the rest of the two's conversation consisted of nothing but fond memories, jokes, rants half-hearted chiding. _Bolt up all that pride. You'll need it later._

The remedy of childhood connections worked, and John was reminded that home could be beautiful.

*

When the two met their destination, Emmy gave John a hug and a good luck kiss before driving away, leaving John at the gates of Henry's upper-class mansion. John's eyes immediately went to the garden that surrounded the estate, a ghost-like feel vibrating off its many colors and shapes. He could already smell that familiar jasmine scent.

Straightening his tie ( _Father would appreciate this damned thing, right?_ ), John pulled his suitcase up the driveway while shouldering as many bags as he could without embarrassingly dropping everything. That would look bad, and it was only his first day. His steps first felt heavy, but got lighter as the beaming sun comforted him. _It's only good old Henry_ , John reminded himself. _Your father. And look, that's where used to play as a child. You're back. Emmy was right, returning home is always a blessing._

He rang the doorbell and held his breath. When Henry finally answered, it was as if someone had slapped John in the face as an outpour of remembrances struck both his heart and mind. He looked dapper and professional (as always) with his black suit and tie, which matched his dark hair that refused to grey even though Henry was in fact middle-aged. Oddly, Henry always had a youthful appearance. That didn't change after all those years. John was fascinated with his father's eyes- not in the way that Emmy's eyes made him curious. In this case, it was always with confusion. John had brown eyes, and so did mother. Most of their family had dark eyes. Somehow, though, Henry had the most piercing green eyes John knew.

Mr. Laurens smiled. "Welcome home, son."

*

The first thing John did was carry his luggage to his ex-room while making rushed small-talk with his father. Henry at least didn't seem upset about John first needing space before they properly caught up with each other's lives. John practically threw everything by his bed- bare and a bland white color like the rest of the room. Once, it had been a nice blue color but since John moved out Henry re-painted it so it fit with the rest of the house's aesthetic. John had a sneaking suspicion Henry regretted it, as if he was painting over all the cherished memories young John once had in their beloved house. But the businessman never confirmed it. John never asked.

Stretching and glancing at himself in the mirror, John let himself finally breathe. _You made it_. Already he wanted to hang up his colorful drawings and posters to distract himself from the bleak oppression of the smaller room. Luckily for him, Henry barely stepped foot in John's room, so he didn't have to feel anxious about his father chiding him for having "queer interests" to put it lightly. But then again, perhaps the fact that he hid it away from Henry was supposed to make him feel guilty.

John decided not to think about it and first began with putting the blankets and pillows on the bed. Suddenly he remembered he had not only given Alex a few drawings, but also one of his sacred pillows. (Alex asked him shyly for it before he left. John couldn't say no to his sweetness.) To "be even" with Alex, he took a pillow from him as well. To John's delight, it still had Alex's signature aroma: Printed paper, coffee, and a hint of cinnamon.

 _I've been blessed_. After briefly inhaling it (and trying not to feel like a creepy stalker), he arranged it neatly in the center of the bed frame and admired the organization. Not wanting to keep Henry waiting, John quickly smoothed his white dress shirt and quickly went to meet his father for the second time.

Henry had been patiently waiting in the living room, idly checking his phone. As John walked down the steps, he smiled and greeted his father with a faint "Hey." Henry looked up and returned the smile. "Jack! It's been awhile."

"That's for sure," John said breathlessly, a common symptom of being around his father. (It had nothing to do with flattery, unlike Alex's case.) 

"How's New York?"

John laughed. "Slightly less romantic than how it's portrayed in the movies, but I've gotten used to it," he joked.

"Mm, yes. I've suspected such. An adventure for you, I'm sure. Which is probably why you enjoy it."

"Yeah, the quickness of life there definitely keeps my restless energy in check." John sat down, swallowing. "So, how's life been?"

"Ah, where are my manners? I've left the glass I made you before I arrived in the kitchen. Hang on."

John shook his head, amused. _Still at it with that Southern charm_ , he figured. 

When Henry returned, he handed John a glass of sweet tea and sat back down in the chair across from John. "Where were we? Life. Right. Well, nothing much as changed since we last corresponded. The business is operating fine but I have a few clients who are irritating the hell out of me." He took a quick sip from his own sweet tea- or at least John hoped it was tea and not alcohol. "But things are well. We're cheering Emmy on as she faces her next college courses. Aunt Ellen's sister just had twins. Miller is back from his vacation in Tennessee."

John shivered everytime he thought of _business_. Like Henry wanted him to work at some hellish Dunder Mifflin place. _Well, fuck,_ John thought, suddenly inspired. _That's one joke I need to mention to Alex when I call him tonight_. At least everything else seemed normal enough. "That's great," John said earnestly. "I know we've been to Nashville before but I've been dying to go again."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "Not tired of travel yet?"

John blushed. First it was Geneva. Then it was New York. "Um, well I mean for- Miller. And his kids. It's been awhile."

Henry chuckled. "Yes, I suppose it has been." Another sip of tea. "We're lucky God still keeps us together- more or less. However, I'm more interested in King's College."

Trying not to look nervous, John tried cautiously: "Well, my majors are the same. All my exams have been passed. Nothing new's been happening to me, but the college itself is going through changes: accepting students from other states as interns, providing a new debate club season, improving the performing arts program. The usual college stuff, I guess."

"And your friends?"

John tapped his fingers impatiently on his glass. "As well as ever."

"That's nice to hear." The more Henry talked, the easier it was for John to answer- probably because the conversation shifted from personal to general topics like the weather, politics, gossip, rants, etc. Now those are the talks John appreciated with his father. Sure, he wasn't fiery as Alexander, but nevertheless he was overall direct, light, and of course charismatic. John knew how to avoid stating opinions that Henry may disapprove of, and how to carefully structure his wording in case he were to ever get offended. Thus, hitting it off wasn't too hard- even if it wasn't at an entirely personal level.

After going back and forth for the next two hours, John eventually admitted he hadn't had much of a lunch. Henry nodded, suddenly serious. "Damn, I knew we were forgetting something. Pizza good for you?"

John smirked. His father definitely couldn't cook. That's where he got it from. "Of course. It's no trouble."

Just as Henry was about to leave, he turned back around and frowned slightly. "You're okay?"

At first, John was shocked and simply stared. Then he blinked rapidly as if waking up all over again and said: "Yeah, thanks, Dad. No problem." _Curse my tenor voice._ It was higher in his panic than it should have been.

Henry nodded, flashing his last smile. "Be back."

John exhaled sharply once he knew his father was gone. _How am I supposed to respond with "You're okay"? Did he mean generally? 'Cause I'd really rather not spill my whole life story._ Rolling his shoulders to ease the tension, John chided himself. _There's no catch. He was curious. Though I wondered what gave anything away._ Perhaps just superstition. Henry could be extremely paranoid and vain, so that reasoning was plausible, yes?

To distract himself, John looked out the nearest window. It was still sunny outside, and he heard the birds chirping. He wasn't used to a quiet atmosphere; Anyone who lived with Alex for even just a month would have gotten used to his endless rambles. Now he wasn't there to ask dozens of questions and start mini-rants. 

_All roads lead back to you._

The concept of what home truly is can be confusing, John silently concluded. Nevertheless he smiled. Emmy was right about a lot of things. Henry had to care- not like he had a choice now, right? John had to cope with not being with Alex, the same as both he and father had to cope with missing Eleanor. It wasn't a clear answer, but slowly the enigma was unraveling.

*

After dinner and making the proper arrangements for tomorrow, John decided to go to sleep early. He immediately collapsed on his bed, for old time's sake. (It was a habit of his since childhood. He never really knew why; it was just an impulsive act.) He automatically turned on the TV, then realized there was no need for Alex wasn't there. (Alex needed some sort of light source or he freaked out. John didn't know the whole story for that but Alex mentioned it reminded him of Nevis so he didn't question it.) After closing his eyes and mediating his mind, he grabbed his phone from his desk and checked his phone. As expected, Alex had left a few dozen messages:

**16 messages from Alexander:**

_**9 hours ago** Hey John  <3 Don't think you're home yet but hi anyway. Miss you already_

_**9 hours ago** Can't wait for you to call me!!! I need to know how you're doing_

_**6 hours ago** ooh The Office is on and it's our favorite episode_

_**6 hours ago** Stress Relief, right?_

_**6 hours ago** god I miss this show_

_**6 hours ago** would be better if you were here_

_**5 hours ago** Jackyyy_

_**3 hours ago** I have no one to share all this tea with_

_**3 hours ago** SHIT I JUST DROPPED MY COFFEE MUG_

_**3 hours ago** I hope you're proud of yourself. Leaving me alone to be a mESS_

_**3 hours ago** just kidding love you xoxo_

_**3 hours ago** Gosh has it been 11 hours yet??_

**_{3 hours ago you missed one (1) call}_ **

_**2 hours ago** If you don't post pictures of Becky on ig I will personally steal your phone... When you get back, of course_

_**2 hours ago** Okay goodnight  <3_

_**1 hours ago** Okay tbh I can't sleep_

_**1 hours ago** I AM ARGUING WITH LAF ABOUT THE WHOLE IS WATER WET THING AND I'M ABOUT TO THROW THIS REMOTE _

John shooked his head, laughing. He sent Alex a single message:  _This is why I love you omg._ Then he dialed Alex's number and called. Alex immediately answered, yelling "JACKY!" which nearly scared John half to death.

"Woah, Lex, I'm okay. I've missed you already! Also thanks for all those weird texts."

"Anytime, my Southern gentleman." John could already see Alex's smirk and taunting wink.

"Oh, please, I think my voice hasn't changed that dramatically."

"Hmm. Not yet. But I hear your roots slowly coming back. Say 'Oh, please,' again and I'll judge more accurately."

"You're impossible."

" _Impossible_ ," Alex said, repeating the way John exaggerated the vowels and lightly touched the ending consonants.

"Goddamn, Alex."

Alex laughed into the phone, so infectiously John smiled automatically in response. "So far I've only set up my room, talked with father, made plans for tomorrow, and had dinner. Since he can't cook we had pizza."

"Ironic, 'cause I can't cook either and ordered pizza."

"Ha, that's hilarious. How've you been?"

"Y'know, studying and shit. My essay. Drinking coffee. Arguing with Laf. The usual, except you're not here, so it always feels like I'm missing something." The wistful tone of his voice increased John's heartbeat in delight.

"Well, same here," he said softly. "I keep expecting you to jump-scare me and ramble about some shit you saw on Twitter or something."

"Alas! In spirit, I hope."

"Of course, Alexander."

Alex hummed. "Say my name again?"

John blushed. "You're cheesy, _Alexander_."

"Thanks," Alex said, probably grinning in triumph. "How long do you have?"

"Um..." John looked at the clock. "Honestly, I could stay up for a  good two hours. If you want."

"Are you kidding? I'm _totally_ taking advantage of that."

John smiled. This was going to be a long conversation. "Alright. Just- can I FaceTime you? I need to see your face."

Alex snickered. "I'm flattered. Promise me something, though."

"I promise."

"Dude, chill. I haven't asked you anything yet."

"I know. But I'll do it."

Alex sighed fondly. "You're too sweet to love me."

"Oh, please. That's a lie."

" _Lie_ ," Alex mocked John's accent yet again.

"Skip to the chase, Lex," John said, exhaling in amused exasperation.

"Okay- Promise me that once I'm exhausted and about to sleep you'll sing me a lullaby."

"Anything for my dear Caribbean prince."

"Really? No questions?"

"No. I assume you just miss my heavenly voice."

"Damn right. I heard pieces and parts of the song you were writing in theatre... I've been meaning to ask for the whole thing but I guess I've been carried away with debate club and such." He sighed softly. " _But_ we can make up for that now. Call me on FaceTime. Bye, love."

"Bye, Alex."

* * *

John forced himself to make earlier than usual on his first Sunday morning back in Charleston. The goal was to get Emmy to drive him to his aunt and uncle's place, which happened to be in the more rural areas of South Carolina. They also happened to have a horse stable- the one John's own four-year-old horse Becky. Today was originally just church day; the day he'd reunite with his family and return to the tradition he had left behind of his confronting his religious blessings (and doubts). _Before I can possibly be the victim of my own guilt, why not burn off some energy with Becky?_ he suggested to himself. _Maybe I'll be so stimulated there'll be no room for conflict._

Henry, much to John's relief, supported the idea and said farewell to his son yet again. John knew he should feel bad about that, too, but his own joy of escaping and seeing his pet again overwhelmed any sneaking hints of regret. _The sun was too bright and the air was too comfortable to feel distraught,_ he thought. _Besides, you'll be seeing your family._ Without any other introspection, once he arrived and greeted his aunt and uncle he headed out to the stables. Emmy had no problem with staying inside, and even mentioned she knew he needed to be alone. John dipped his head in respect before rushing outside to breathe in the fresh air.

He understood why outsiders dismissed the countryside as "boring" and "rugged". There was a lot of land, and towns so small that even nearby cities may not even have heard of them. At the very worst, houses and buildings were torn up and faded. The scenes could be kind of depressing if you're used to only the greenest vegetation surrounded by close-knit, vibrant houses and of course, the city lights. John could even admit it was odd coming home after being in New York City for so long. But in his heart there was no question about: the isolation, nature's wonders, and space all contributed to the new peace and optimism he felt when viewing the rolling hills and the bright sunrise. It felt like a fairytale. Renewed energy kicked himself awake and now he was thrilled to be back.

Becky whinnied as soon as he entered the stables. Her white coat was speckled with black, matching her dark mane and tail. In fact, it quite reminded John of himself. She was strong and lean, though her hooves seemed less polished than usual. She remained in her usual calm, observant personality and waited for John to release her from her abode. "Hey, gal," John said in his soft tenor voice. "I've missed you. Sorry it's been so long. You know life... Always taking you to different places." Becky looked like she nodded, and John chuckled as he continued: "It's a beautiful day. I'm thinking about burning all my skittishness before seeing the family at church. Smart idea, hmm?"

He took Becky's silence as support. She loyally followed him without hesitation, sometimes glancing at him and then focusing back in front of her. After stretching and putting on her loose saddle, John grinned and patted her shoulder, signalling that he wanted her to move. At first it was a peaceful stroll, John taking in the beauty of the surrounding woods and absentmindedly contemplating all the drawings he could create when church was over. He had brought with him a few pencils and his sketchbook, and he was sure his aunt had something he could use to color with. _I could make the hills, the sunset, Becky, and everything beyond._ A million words crossed his mind as his mind and heart settled in unity. He vaguely started to remember Alex's words of questioning when John mentioned he favored art over writing. Alex had tried to argue with him about that, but ultimately knew John was right. _If only I was artistically talented!_ John had replied: _There's no shame if we're all creators. Either way we are expressing the same themes._ God, he'd love to draw Alexander now...

After a good ten minutes of that- not like John was keeping track of time, though- he eased Becky to pick up pace, matching the shift of his own mood. Now he was ready to get every possible imperfect emotion out. Over the course of thirty minutes he had gone from a calm stroll to Becky practically running, much to John's mirth and excitement (and perhaps even her own after being cooped up for a while). Hanging on to the reigns and tensing his shoulders expectantly, John grinned as his cheeks flush and blood pumped healthily through his veins. His messy hair now whipped in his face as the wind welcomed his skin, causing shivers down his spine in spite of the heat. _Now who breaks things to get anger out?_ John chided himself. _What an old, foolish habit. This will always be better._

He had no idea how many laps he went, but soon he got extremely dizzy and abruptly began to slow Becky down for a rest. He let her drink up as he sat on some rusty bench, breathing heavily. His chest ached and his throat was the dryest it had been thus far, but he found satisfaction instead of torment; love and honorable tolerance for the pain instead of irritation or helplessness. No, this time he was in control. If anything, the discomfort was his reward, and he was willingly accepting it.

Taking out the sketchbook he had brought outside with him, he began to aimlessly draw whatever quickly sprang into his mind. For John, it didn't really seem like any straight-forward (ha) thought process; it was as if his heart was guiding his hand. Either way, no hesitant reflection was needed. He just _did_ it. No expectations nor logic mattered. Perhaps that's why he felt a lot more alive than he had ever been.

If only Alexander was there to witness it. 

* * *

Emmy was almost afraid they'd be late. Auntie reassured the girl by saying they'd leave at the same time, so whatever happens they can arrive at the same time too. Emmy nodded, faith restored and urged John into her car. Luckily, Auntie, Uncle, Emmy and John arrived soundly to the Charleston church the intertwined Laurens-Manning family visited every Sunday.

"Henry must already be there," Emmy whispered to John. (Probably to avoid awkwardness; everyone else simply called John's father Mr. Laurens. It was considered more "proper" though John never minded.) John nodded.

"He'll understand." His own voice couldn't make it quite past a soft mumble. Standing in front of that grand, white marble House of the Lord always made him nervous. As a child, he'd pretend it was some sort of castle, and that the inside contained gold hidden somewhere only the preacher was aware of. He and Emmy would make conspiracy theories for fun, but usually, Eleanor would pat their hands gently and raise a finger to her lips for them to be quiet as the according events continued.

Of course, now he didn't have the stable imagination of a child to rely on. He knew what was happening, why it happened and how, and yet couldn't bring his soul to be less than heavy. He simply absorbed all the emotions of his family, all their pride and joy when praising their God. But not John. He constantly shivered in fear that Mr. Ultimate himself was already picking apart his physical form- the hot, jealous blood and impulsive, lying veins- to see right through the mask he constantly decided to display. There was no gold to acquire, so angels to sing him a lullaby as the booming voice of the preacher took all his rational thoughts away, leaving the shell of a man who was so dangerously fragile and perhaps even unforgiving.

**_Am I wrong for thinking out the box from where I stay?_ **

**_Am I wrong for saying that I'll choose another way?_ **

Silently, by Emmy's side, he walked in, eyes already glazed as if in a trance. Emmy squeezed his arm, capturing John's attention. She simply smiled understandingly, her newly applied mascara and the way the sun hit her making her own blue eyes appear bigger and completed, as if she already felt her spirits rise just by standing outside the church of the childhood. Her cheeks were rosy and her blonde hair was curled, and John noted the lace of her dress. Oh, Emmy was so pure herself. _Perhaps the only holy thing about me is within Emmy._ Instead of bitterness, he smiled, exhaling as he let his heart pump rapidly as if it could get all its energy out just to be silenced again. 

**_If you tell me I'm wrong,_ **

**_I don't wanna be right_ **

Auntie waved over a few adults and elders mingling amongst themselves, who practically lit up when they saw John and Emmy's locked arms. They cried "It's Henry's boy!" and "Jacky!" simultaneously before immediately coming to embrace John. He welcomed the attention, smiling brighter than what he had been and engaging in their small-talk. Emmy threw in a few comments too, tossing her head back with a dazzling laugh. Or maybe everything felt more dazzled and fancy when his affluent Southern family came together in one big reunion, John noted. His spirits lifted, recognizing faces and storing all the happiness of knowing he had a family even after all his time searching for himself. He also knew that since they believed in some mighty Power, he at least had their blessings and prayers even if his own beliefs didn't match theirs.

(But then again, they wouldn't have known.)

Glancing at the sympathetic sun, John remembered his time out in the open before arriving. He remembred the freedom of being alone and drunk with energy. He smiled. Reassured and taking another shaky inhale, his words became louder and sentences became more lengthy. He came to people, not the other way around. He smiled, talked, and with an open-mind walked the halls of the church. He chose to feel their joy and share it than waste time with thoughts that could be poison against the heavenly light of their dreams. He thanked God, regarded him as an old friend and didn't think of the countless billions of people in the world accusing people like him of being a sinner. After all, he was home after all this time. Wasn't that a cause for celebration?

 _Besides, one thing is a clear miracle: I am here. They are here. We are united. We stand inside a holy ground of people who want to spread love and hope. These people have faith. I must have some of it too if I can look at their faces and not see cold veils of ignorance and pity._ John's inner monologue sang, as complex and emotionally fluid as it was.

Yet again he was a child among the bliss. He wanted to enjoy it before the guilt came.

*

John scanned for Henry. As if he hadn't seen his father at all in the past few days, he was anxious to get close to him. He knew he'd probably be with the other adult males, talking business or whatever practical idea was in his brain. Finally he caught his eye, and Henry grinned and waved him over. John gently touched Emmy's shoulder. "I'll be back," he whispered. Emmy must've known where he was going, for she nodded with a knowing smile and continued her conversation with Auntie.

"Hey," John said as he approached the men, shaking their outstretched hands in pleasure. They greeted him just before Henry spoke up: "John here has been adjusting nicely to being back home. His tardiness is the result of a last-minute decision to spend time with ol' Miss Becky before arriving." He smiled teasingly at his son. "I'm sure that satisfied your sense of adventure, yes?"

John chuckled nervously. "Well, we're not done in Charleston yet, so I'm afraid I cannot confirm your opinion."

"Ah." Henry patted him on the back as the others talked (yep, you guessed it) business. John nodded here and there, trying to look interested. Instead, he ended up shooting his father's youngest friend, Charlie, an amused look which turned in to a silent contest on who could make faces at Henry without getting caught. Charlie ended up snorting and covering his mouth modestly, trying to look innocent. Henry gave him a curious look and but said nothing, and John giggled quietly to himself. Once Henry was done rambling, the rest of the men talked more pleasurable Southern things much to John's delight. Turns out the smallest victories over Henry stilled counted as victories, and John was happy to know others shared his somewhat exasperated mood toward his uptight father.

Eventually the conversation centered around John. 

"So, going down to see Becky and risking getting late! Glad to know Henry raised you well enough to end up here but not enough so you lose your sense of adventure." 

John looked down, shyly. "Yeah... Needed to clear my head."

"Bet. New York City... Man! Never would have imagined any of our kin living somewhere so foreign to us." 

"Well," Charlie interrupted, "at least he's mixing it up instead of going to Florida like everyone else."

The others laughed. Just to be clear, John, trying to defend himself, said: "Well, it's different. Sometimes we need a variety to remind us of the point of all of this..." He vaguely gestured to the church, earning confused and curious glances from the other men.

"You mean religion?"

John turned bright red and cursed inwardly at himself. "I never said that."

 **_I've been on the low_ **  
**_I been taking my time_ **  
**_I feel like I'm out of my mind_ **  
**_It feel like my life ain't mine_ **  
**_Who can relate?_ **

Charlie rolled his eyes. "I think what Jack's _trying_ to say is that changing your surroundings never hurt nobody. Only makes them summer days in the South more welcoming, yes?"

"Exactly," John said, feeling slightly uncomfortable with Charlie's arm slung supportively around his shoulders. "You can't hide from religion anyway."

The others cracked a smile. "Amen, Preacher Jack!" they teased, and John hid his irritation behind a sweet, tight smile. Then he pinched himself. _That's too flirty. Stop it. Just because they're men doesn't mean you have to be so...defensive._

**_All this other shit I'm talkin' 'bout, they think they know it  
I've been praying for somebody to save me, no one's heroic_ **

Reminding himself where he was, he exhaled and pulled away from Charlie. "So, uh, working with Henry. That should be interested."

"I know damned well you don't give much of a crud for business," Charlie said matter-of-factly. "Come, I want you to meet my new daughter."

 **_I've been on the low_ **  
**_I been taking my time_ **  
**_I feel like I'm out of my mind_ **  
**_It feel like my life ain't mine_ **

*

Emmy had already been with Charlie's family, so when John and Charlie himself walked over she immediately brightened and showed off how much young Arianah liked her already. After ignoring all the suggestive looks people shot John and Emmy- as if expecting them to announce their never-to-be wedding at any moment- everyone began to sit down for the actual event to start. As he gently talked to Arianah a familiar face appeared, nearly causing John to yelp in surprise.

"Jack!" the young girl cried. She was short, with curly strawberry blonde hair. Her leafy green eyes brightened, and she immediately hugged John. Those eyes were all too familiar, he thought. It had to be some cruel joke. Because the very girl hugging him happened to be Melanie... Melanie Kinloch.

"Melly..." John said uneasily. "How- why-"

"I've missed you, John," Melanie said with a pout. "Since we've moved I haven't seen you and I miss when you showed me the garden and Becky and- Oh, I talk too much and I scared you, I'm sor-"

"No, no," John reassured, embracing the little girl back. "I just- I didn't think you'd be here. As in- your family." _Real smooth, John_.

"Yeah. I don't know either but I'm here! And you're back from New York! I'm happy now." She flushed, embarrassed, and John chuckled, trying to ease his anxiety. If Melanie was there, Francis had to be too. And John was _not_ about to have that.

"Melly!" Charlie said. "Don't coddle Jack. We have to start sitting down, where's your mother?"

John thanked Charlie for existing silently as Melanie gave one last smile before skipping away. Then he found his seat, trying not to feel like those green eyes were still searching for him.

Taking a deep breath, John's heartbeat eventually began to slow though it continued an irregular pattern as the preacher stood in front of everyone to deliver his speech, gesture for the choir to start, assist with prayer and etc. Sitting next to Emmy and Henry as usual, he purposely slid closer to the former, glancing at her so Henry couldn't see his expression that could possibly stir worry upon the father's mind. Occasionally Emmy would hold his hand for a quick fleeting moment before returning her focus to the front and looking as if she was witnessing God. (Which wouldn't be too far off since preachers, of course, convey God's word.)

There were multiple times John started to zone out, as if he was slipping away from reality. A strange sense of déjà vu kept him from completely registering the preacher's words. Slowly but firmly a memory, or sensation, built its way throughout John, upwards in his throat as if he was going to scream or have an outburst any second. Not that he had any particular words in mind, no, he just knew he was feeling strange. No dark thoughts crossed his mind, and he didn't feel melancholy. Only that, perhaps, something else beyond what he knew was being presented. Or conjured.

There was a sweet smell of jasmine. _Jasmine?_ John knew Emmy didn't wear jasmine. Or maybe it was cinnamon? No, she didn't wear cinnamon either. She wore lemon, maybe, but... 

 _The preacher. Listen to him. He is trying to reach you_ , John's conscious implored. His words came back to him: " _Faith isn't just about a blinding light, someone asking for advice. Faith is entering His haven by using...sublime energy...your advantage... in the darkness. Now, that is believing! That is your leap of faith... He raises you up as you put your trust in him... A plan bigger than your own mistakes and misleadings_ -"

The dream! There was a dream...

**_But I'm only human and I bleed when I fall down_ **

**_I'm only human and I crash and I break down_ **

" _Love exists and Love is openly expressed in God, for you are his child and... Who belongs in your life forevermore... A blessing during the storm... And the sands of Time... He will be there. You do not need to fight nor hide anymore... Rebirth, faith, whichever may ignite within you... Humanity is always needy and selfish and yearning for a passion they cannot tame or conquer by any means-_ "

Love. Love...

**_Your words in my head, knives in my heart_ **

**_You build me up and then I fall apart_ **

" _Never isolated, never dead in His arms... Eternal Heaven... Passion can only be a prison when_ -"

The warning!

" _Fear only Fear itself. And may the odds forever be in our favor_."

Everyone stood up during the applause, and John's response was automatic though he didn't feel aware of it. He stood up quickly, clapping harshly as his hands ached from digging his nails into his palm in concentration. "Amen," he muttered. "Amen." And as the countless others whistled and cried in approval, John's ears was nearly deaf of his surroundings. Only the enigmatic force he was unearthed at that moment captured him, made his own blood bare to the witness of the God he thought may or may not be listening, hearing. He wondered if the angels felt it too.

*

John retreated to the bathroom before anyone could process he was missing. _Not that they should notice,_ he thought, _there are so many other people they can mess with for now._ He loosened his tie, splashed water on himself hastily and heavily as if to drown out any oxygen, any sin and cleanse himself as if the water was blessed. After several rounds of that, he reluctantly gazed in the mirror, thoroughly scanning his face as if trying to search for something that wasn't there, or maybe something that was hiding. What he found didn't satisfy him, so he looked down, clenching the sink to get his bearings.

 **_It's holding on, though the road's long_ **  
**_And seeing light in the darkest things_ **  
**_And when you stare at your reflection_ **  
**_Finally knowing who it is_ **  
**_I know that you'll thank God you did_ **

_Breathe in, breathe out. Like what you told Alex when the lights went out in your house, or when it was thundering._

A lot had changed. Alex wasn't there with him at the moment- physically, anyway. He was off doing his own thing back at King, with the debate. Then there was John. The Pride Fest, his feelings, Kinloch, church, that damned dream... Like the world was trying to urgently tell him something. Like it was trying to either break him or make him, and John couldn't tell which was which. John sighed shakily. _Where did everything go wrong..._

 **_Feels like we're on the edge right now_ **  
**_I wish that I could say I'm proud_ **  
**_I'm sorry that I let you down_ **  
**_(Let you down...)_ **

Punching the wall, John scolded himself. _If Alex were here he'd tell you to get a grip. He'd also hold you and tell you everything is okay. Look. You have you. Calm down. We can think this through. It's not the end, no, not yet._ After moments of silence, John searched his mind. What got him in this mess was evident. He realized he had "loved" Francis. That love turned out to be attraction, and then eventually bitterness- aimed at both the oppressor and the oppressed, confused. Of course, being who he was also meant trouble for religion, God. He had already questioned his faith, so finding himself made it worse. He learned to shove Francis to the back of his mind and now he's back- kind of, or at least it was likely since Melanie was too. Meaning the guilt was stronger, more personal than it had been in a while since he was in New York. And New York! There he actually found someone who loved him loyally- dear Alexander- and now that whole attraction thing is worse- _God_. He was in this mess again! 

 **_Yeah, I guess I'm a disappointment_ **  
**_Doing everything I can, I don't wanna make you disappointed_ **  
**_It's annoying_ **  
**_I just wanna make you feel like everything I ever did wasn't ever tryna make an issue for you_ **

**_Paranoia, what did I do wrong this time?_ **

**_What else should I carry for you?_ **  
**_I cared for you, but:_ **

_I can't let myself down. But I can't let my family down either. They love me, and I love them, but they'd love me less if they knew who I truly am; how I truly think, and feel, and what I do. I'll always love them, even when they turn on me. And let's face it, they would if they can't understand. And how will they understand if I am never brave enough to say anything? "God will help you," they will say, "He loves you." Except maybe he doesn't! If he does, well, I don't deserve it. Is this what life will always be? Me loving, me fighting for people and something that doesn't want to embrace me for who I am? Something I can't find? God, I don't even know who I am!_

It was a rant, a time to finally be clear with himself. With the heat and sting of those words disappearing after he paced around the bathroom, he paused again. He splashed water on himself, making sure it was as cold as possible. He looked back at his life: all the merry things. "You _are_ loved," he muttered. "This is your fight. You have to win. You _will_ win- if we do this right."

**_Looking at the stars, I know quite well_ **

**_That, for all they care, I can go to hell_ **

**_But on earth indifference is the least_ **

**_we have to dread from man or beast_ **

John nodded, looking up at the ceiling. _Breathe in, breathe out._ "It's not as- apocalyptic than you think. Honestly, John..."

**_How should we like it were the stars to burn_ **

**_with a passion for us we could not return?_ **

**_If equal affection cannot be... let the more loving one be me._ **

_Love_ , John repeated. _If it got you in this mess, it can get you out. "All roads lead back to you."_

_(Humilitas occidit superbiam.)_

**_Admirer as I think I am_ **

**_of stars that do not give a damn_ **

**_I cannot, now I see them, say_ **

**_I missed one terribly all day_ **

"If not them, you have to be loving and willing. Even if you're against all odds... You must continue." John smiled finally after failed attempts. "Alexander will love you. And you love him. I think that... no matter what happens, that can be enough to survive. Of course, you will try to win both sides..."

**_Were all the stars to disappear or die,_ **

**_I should learn to look at an empty sky_ **

**_and feel its total dark sublime_ **

**_Though this might take me a little time_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and compliments fuel the writer :)) 
> 
> There are quite a bit of parallels and important themes that I tried to express in this chapter so I hope for now they're done to justice. Updates may be getting slower because my required classes/studying is starting to take over as opposed to my summer schedule. But I'll try to write as much as I can each week! COMING UP NEXT: Draamaaa
> 
> references/fun facts:  
> Epiphany: Religious subcontex. I'm sure the more literal usage is obvious within the story.  
> Hamlet/Horatio: In Shakespeare's "Hamlet" the only loyal, understanding friend the said prince had was named Horatio, who was (spoilers...) ready to die for the prince's cause.  
> "All roads lead to you." 1) From the original "All roads lead to Rome." 2) An unintentional Steve Wariner song reference that I didn't know existed. Sue me.  
> Martha's appearance of being blonde and blue-eyed is kind of like an ode to John's historical appearance- in which I did not include (simply because I prefer the musical's representation).  
> Dunder Mifflin: The Office. Duh. Also I'm currently obssed with it, again. So that's a thing.  
> "The More Loving One" by W.H. Auden. Probably my favorite poem of all time.  
> "Humilitas occidit superbiam." = Humility conquers/kills pride.
> 
> songs:  
> "Airplanes"  
> "Human"  
> "Am I Wrong?"  
> "1-800-273-8255"  
> "Let You Down"


	9. too soon to know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fluff before we realize: O fuck
> 
> (again, i remind you this is a slow-burn regarding relationship but, as you can see, also major plot points. there's a lot of build up. to be fair i'm not used to writing long fics like this so have mercy. also i love foreshadowing haha)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was going to make this longer but then the flow wouldn't be as clean hhHH
> 
> I am SO busy now so chapter updates are going to be legit hell and there's nothing i can do about that so uhh just take this

Going back home was a blurr to John. He had stepped out of the restroom after making sure his face wasn't red and damp from tearing up (read: crying), checked the hallways to make sure he was alone, then jogged hastily back to where he knew Emmy was waiting.

She turned to him, smiling brightly though her blue eyes softened in some sort of mutual understanding. "Jack," he said simply, and John held his breath, waiting for her to point out how reckless and clueless he was and how he shouldn't hide from her for she was the only person in the whole building who had a clue toward his behavior. Instead, though, she asked: "Do you want to ride home with H--I mean, Mr. Laurens?" Family members flanked her side, look as if they were anticipating something.

John swallowed. "Er--Yes... Yeah. I'll go with him."

Emmy cocked her head in a silent _Are you sure_?

John listlessly shrugged.

Emmy mouthed _I got you_ before getting one of her auntie's attention. While she did that, John went ahead and said his farewells to as many family members he could find and court at the moment. He smiled, grateful that the experience was over but also that he found some sort of closure within the walls he thought were only meant to torment people like him. Plus, he had a family-- as oblivious as they may be, he still had some sort of system. He _had_ to be thankful for that. There were people like Alex who didn't have any blood family left. For his sake, he had to be gracious. For _their_ sake, he had to be virtuous--whatever that word even meant now.

Before he could find a way to sneak off with Emmy, Henry happened to grab his arm which startled John so much his left hand flinched as if ready to punch the stranger. 

 **_There was a time, I used to look into my father's eyes_ **  
**_In a happy home, I was a king I had a golden throne_ **  
**_Those days are gone, now the memories are on the wall_ **  
**_I hear the sounds from the places where I was born_ **

"Woah, Jack," Henry chuckled, apparently nonchalant about his son going in panic mode. "Just me. Are you riding home with me tonight? Or would you prefer Em?"

John knew he couldn't say _I'm a little anxious around you so I'll just go with Martha_ without making it look like something else, so he sighed and reluctantly agreed before telling Emmy.

"Stay safe," she said, squeezing his hand. "And John?"

"Yes?"

She smiled slowly, a new grace crossing her features. "He loves you."

John could tell by her meaningful expression she meant more than just Henry.

 **_My father said:_ **  
**_Don't you worry, don't you worry child_ **  
**_See heaven's got a plan for you_ **  
**_Don't you worry, don't you worry now..._ **

*

Staring out the window, John stayed silent-- Which was okay, because Henry did too and didn't seem to be bothered by that. The sky was cloudy and that peaceful, quiet way that brought a caress of dreams and hopes rushing through your mind as you counted the clouds, whether it be of the future or of long ago. Words couldn't manifest themselves to John, but he knew damn well that the sky was an open canvas and all he wanted to do was join the clouds for at least a day so he could paint among them. _What a silly wish_ , John thought drowsily, _there's not much up there for you._

But then he thought about it again. Was it rational to feel as if there was something more up there, in the great beyond? To think perhaps there truly was a greater cosmic forced that had some sort of plan or clue as to where you were going? Sometimes John swore there was a watcher, whether it be human or not. Maybe spirits, of a sort-- Somebody he used to know.

 _Feeling is irrational_ , he reminded himself.

"How you feel?" Henry interrupted all of a sudden.

It was a wonder John didn't hit his head harshly on the roof of the car. He looked up, slightly confused. "What?"

Henry glanced at John, considering his words. "You had that look on your face. The one when you're thinking about something intensely."

John blinked. Henry could tell? "Oh, uh. It's just... I was thinking about what everyone's told me. I really took their kindness and faith to heart. I've missed everyone."

 _**"When you get older** _  
_**Your wild life will live for younger days** _  
_**Think of me if ever you're afraid."** _

Henry nodded, apparently satisfied. After a few more moments of silence, he spoke up: "You've always done that. Wave off your concern. Of course, I don't mind, but sometimes I wonder..." He sounded wishful, nostalgic. "Eleanor... was always better at these kinds of things. It's like she sensed emotions, you know? For years, I've tried to do the same. To make her proud. But I don't know. Maybe... maybe she doesn't miss... those days. Because she has Heaven now. And that's the best she's ever had." A pause. "You're so much like her, you know. It's an enigma-- Why God let me keep you in spite of the fact I was the least ready a parent could be."

John could barely process the words. Did he hear that right? _Henry was actually opening up? Why? I don't unders--_

"Sorry, I... I don't know."

That's it. No cover-up. No explanations, or a quick change of subject. Henry was admitting defeat.

 **_He said, "One day you'll leave this world behind_ **  
**_So live a life you will remember."_ **

"Maybe..." Henry's voice was the softest it had been. "Maybe if I could understand, she can be proud. And you can, too."

Proud.

_Proud._

_Maybe you can be proud._

"It's okay... Dad. I think... I think I'm starting to understand." _You. I'm starting to understand you._ He smiled, to reassure Henry. "I know about enigmas-- Believe me, I've had my share... you know, moving to New York and all." John squeezed his wrist to get out the remaining tension he felt. "Elly looks down on us. I know she does. She's up there-- in her white robes, her pearls-- and she's smiling. Because, by God, we made it."

 **_My father told me when I was just a child_ **  
**_These are the nights that never die..._ **

Henry was smiling, too. "We did, didn't we?" He seemed soothed, back to his normal charisma. He drived on, silent, occasionally glancing to his left as if expecting Eleanor to manifest, holding out her arms for a reuniting embrace. 

John closed his eyes. Breathed in, breathed out. 

**_(My father told me...)_ **

They made it.

*

Like last time, Alex was able to respond to John's calls and texts. John assumed Alex waited by the phone everyday when he got off from college and work just to hear any updates John might give. Of course, he was much more gentle and concerned that Sunday night because he was aware of John's own fears. He was as light and comedic as possible, but John knew better than to think Alex was simply jolly that day. He was genuinely trying to make sure John was reassured.

"Yeah, no," John was saying, head still in the clouds. "It wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be."

"You sound almost confused," Alex noted.

"Well... Dad talked to me." John lowered his voice just in case.

"What did he say?" was Alex's immediate, rushed reaction.

"Just... that he was looking forward to our future. As a family."

"Oh." Alex paused, contemplating. "So, uh... y'all good?"

"Y'all," John teased as payback.

"Don't you even dare, my Southern prince, because I did that to sound more _personal_ since obviously you've been engaged in that homely accent of yours." Alex hiffed slightly, as if exasperated. John smiled at his friend's annoyance. Alex continued: "You must think my accent strange now."

"Never, my love," John said as teasing as he could force it.

"Hmm? Is that so?"

"Your voice might as well be more home to me." John paused this time, thinking how he said that so effortlessly. Alex remained silent, awaiting the next part of John's accidental truth. "I mean... _Blood_ is one thing. _Understanding_ that blood... That can be different."

"But you're okay?"

"Yes, Alex." John ran a hand threw his hair. "I'm okay. Kind of tired now. Lots of... thoughts. Okay, more _feelings_ than anything-- But. I think I can rest peacefully now. More or less, that is, without you."

"Aw, I'm flattered!" 

John rolled his eyes. "'Course."

"I... John, can I tell you something?"

John frowned. "Yes. Anything. What's up?"

Alex took a deep beath. "Uh, well. Just want to say that I hope... Okay, prepare yourself 'cause this is going to sound cheesy as hell."

John chuckled. "Okay..."

"Just. Don't laugh."

"Alex!"

"Alright, I get it! Calm."

" _You_ calm, Alexander."

A pause. "So, I love you. Right?"

 **_We are dead to rights morning ray_ **  
**_We are thick and thin 'til our last days_ **  
**_So hold me close and I'll surrender to your heart_ **

"Duh."

"And I miss you. Like _crazy_. It's killing me."

"Mm. That makes me feel special." John tried to tease but the softness of his voice gave it all away.

Alex laughed nervously. "I hope you find what you're looking for. You know, back at home." There was an awkward tone change when he said _home_ , and John waited for Alex to elaborate. "Because... I know if I went back to Nevis I'd be looking for something."

John tilted his head, glancing at his shut door. Lowering his voice again, he softly asked: "What would you look for, Alexander?"

Alex hesitated. "Closure."

Nodding (though he knew Alex couldn't see him), John said: "I think I'm starting to understand."

"You figurin' shit out?"

John grinned. "Yeah. Guess you could say that. Alexander?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. Like, for real. You've helped me so much. I hope... I hope we both find the path we were meant for."

"Me too. But you know what?"

"What? Don't leave me hanging."

"You can't see me but I'm rolling my eyes at you."

"Ha!"

"Shit, that wasn't what I was going to say."

"Alex," John scoffed teasingly.

 **_Before the flame goes out tonight_ **  
**_Yeah, we'll live until we die_ **

"I was going to say: I already know one thing for a fact, at least."

"Yes?"

"You are what I've been searching for."

John paused-- the longest pause thus far. No, he was _waiting_. For... maybe for Alex to keep talking. Or for himself to find the right words. Maybe he was expecting God or Eleanor or some other spiritual force to appear and... confirm the closure. Change some fate John had been thrown under until now. No, maybe he was waiting for Alex to embrace him. He didn't know, but the same automatic response he felt in the church was coming back. Now he wasn't controlled, no, nor was he fearful, numb. No, he felt free from some burden, some chain. How, _oh God how_ could John ever see hate if Alex is looking up at his ceiling lovingly thinking, feeling John? And John was returning that love, so unconditional, so timeless?

"...John? Johnny? Jacky? Hello, partner?"

John smiled slowly. "I love you too."

 **_So c'mon, c'mon, c'mon_ **  
**_Won't you turn my soul into a raging fire?_ **  
**_C'mon, c'mon, c'mon_ **  
**_'Til we lose control into a raging fire..._ **

"I-- ah. Yeah. We're a good team."

"I miss you too."

" _That's_ a relief."

"Alex, I think about you all the time, dummy."

"Oof. And not the good ol' South?" Alex said, probably smirking.

"God, you're such a dork. We were having a moment."

Alex made a quick smooch sound. "I know."

John sighed, blushing. "Immature."

"You're stuck with for eternity," Alex mused.

"Good. That's how I want it to be."

"'All roads lead back to you.'"

"Stop making me emotional and tell me about your day."

Alex perked up, which was noticeable for his endless rambling. Eventually, John had to excuse himself, for he was tired and felt as if he had a lot to process. Nevertheless, he encouraged Alex to continue, then soon said a quick goodnight to Alex.

"Goodnight, Alex. I love you. Sweet dreams."

"I'm melting, God, say that again?"

John turned red. "Ugh, Lex. _Sweet dreams, my beautiful flower_. Happy?"

" _Satisfied_."

"Mm."

"Goodnight, Jack. Sweet dreams to you too, my reckless little muffin."

"Why am I a muffin?"

"'Cause I said so."

"I love you."

"I love you too, dammit."

John laughed. "See you in no time. Bye, hon." He hung up and then closed his eyes. The sun had gone down, leaving his room lit up from the moon's glow. There are some moments untouched by words-- because they are not needed to fill that void inside your tired yet hopeful heart. _That's what faith is for._

 **_You know time will give and time will take_ **  
**_All the memories made will wash away_ **  
**_Even though we've changed, I'm still here with you_ **  
**_If you listen close, you'll hear the sound_ **  
**_Of all the ghosts that bring us down_ **  
**_Hold on to what makes you feel_ **  
**_Don't let go, it's what makes you real_ **

Not a bad conclusion.

* * *

 The rest of the week went by surprisingly quick. From tequila binges with aunts and uncles, riding Becky, having political conversations with Henry to babysitting, pool parties and finding free time to paint, John stayed busy but with a healthy balance of socializing and relaxing alone. He snuck many pictures and calls with Alex, sometimes excusing himself for a whole twenty minutes just to enjoy his friend's voice. He felt awfully clingy, but he ignored that and enjoyed his time. Of course, at the most random times he was hit with some sort of _What am I doing?_ reaction and momentarily became nervous and quiet. But some joke or a look from Emmy would bring him back and he'd forget his troubles.

The alcohol in his system actually helped, so he resorted to almost always having some drink nearby-- whether it be vodka (courtesy of Auntie), bourbon (the guys' pick) or even Henny though that gave him Geneva flashbacks. The great thing was that no adult could berate him on the drinking because he was a college student and they figured everyone John's age did it anyway, so why not? Plus, this was the South for crying out loud. Liquor for days! (In fact, the adults were the ones that encouraged John's first drink. They just didn't know it made John crave more, for it had a calming effect on John that made him extra chatty.)

Was there guilt in this decision? Inevitably; anything John did eventually got wrapped up in his guilt factor. But he thought it'd benefit himself because he came across more direct and enjoyable for his family, which made himself pleased and soothed. _Besides_ , he reasoned, _it's not like I'm getting completely wrecked._ He watched his indulgence, made sure he wasn't acting stupid. 

It worked. Unless he started to think of the consequences. 

He had abused alcohol before when he moved to New York, but up until then he never saw it as a serious coping mechanism. He wondered if Alex felt this way with coffee. In fact, would Alex encourage this habit? _What if I get drunk and stay this way?_ John shook his head, putting his half-full glass of liquor down. _Pause_ , he told himself, trying not to feel sick. Surprisingly, illness didn't come. Only a bubbly demeanor increasing by the minute. He didn't even scold himself when he snorted at Henry's lamest joke yet-- some poor attempt at comedy. Hell, Henry was drunker than he was. _Look--even Emmy is drinking!_

To say the least, John was starting to have some fun.

*

On the last day, John put down the alcohol with relief, knowing he was going home. All the events flew around his head. If anything, his stay felt like some dream. He could already imagine himself walking the busy street of New York City, holding hands with Alex as they bought Starbucks and talked about some trashy gossip or perhaps some random conversation Alex said in such a serious manner over nothing at all that made John laugh every time.

He packed his things eagerly, made small-talk with Henry and had a meaningful conversation with Emmy who decided to stay over Henry's house as a kind of sleepover. _Like when we were kids_ , she had said. To avoid uncomfort, she slept in the guest room, at the end of the hallway as opposed to on a mattress in John's room. At night they had watched _Moana_ together in the living room (John chose it; Alex had loved that movie) and in the morning Emmy helped John pack, though she resorted to simply messing up his bags of clothes and throwing random items at clothing at John as they talked.

"So, tequila, huh?" Emmy asked jokingly. (John dodged the jacket she had thrown at him.)

"Heh.." John said nervously. "I thought-- it helped."

Emmy shrugged. "You were very excited, that's for sure."

John rolled his eyes. "Some of us need alcohol to live, okay?"

" _Please_. I don't."

"Alright, _Nurse Manning_."

"You bastard," she muttered softly. (Probably because she avoided cursing as much as she could.) She now threw her own scarf at John, though it didn't go far because the fabric was light. Emmy pouted and John laughed.

"Thanks for staying," she spoke up.

John smiled, throwing his cap at her. Emmy squeaked as she caught it, and he replied: "'Course. Had to say hi to my bestie. Well, _ex_ -bestie, but whatever."

Emmy giggled. She was such a child sometimes. "I should meet Alex sometime," she said, obviously knowing John's new bestie.

John scoffed, though he couldn't control his grin. "That would be nice. Alex would like you-- Well, if he learned to warm up to strangers."

"He warmed up to you, though," Emmy said.

All serious, John said: "We're not strangers."

Smiling, Emmy tilted her head, a soft expression on her face. "I'm glad, John. I really am. I'm happy for you." Out of nowhere, she finished: "I'm gonna be the flower girl, okay?"

John coughed, nearly choking as Emmy clapped. "Oh!" she said in glee. "I can see it now! Mr. John-- wait, what's Alex's last name?"

"the video game DOOM," John barely managed to force out.

"John Laurens-the video game DOOM! How cute."

"Stop, Em," John said, hand on his stomach like he was going to be sick. "Don't scare me like that."

"I can see it in your eyes that you love him," she said matter-of-factly. "If you love him, go for it."

 **_If the flame goes out tonight_ **  
**_Yeah, we'll live until we die_ **

With that, John changed the subject. He could admit, however, that he saw it too.

*

It took barely any time to finish packing. "I'll go ahead and leave you to talk with Henry," Emmy said. She pecked John on the cheek, embraced him, then cheerfully waves goodbye to the father and son.

"Emmy is such a darling," Henry mused to himself. 

"Yes," John agreed. "She's always taken care of me." _Ever since mom left_ , John silently added. He was sure Henry sensed the same.

Henry sighed. He clasped his son's hands, asking "Everything's ready?"

John nodded, the closeness making him nervous. It's bad enough he had to say goodbye again, even if it was a relief on John's part. But Henry? He'd be saying goodbye to the last close family member he truly had: a son that was only in his early twenties, living somewhere else, on a different path. Eleanor wasn't there to console him, and he doubted that even Emmy could reassure the businessman either. He was good with money and logistics, but he too had a shield to wear for his kin. A mask... one that hid fear, loneliness. Looking into Henry's piercing green eyes-- sharp but almost lightless-- John could finally see that.

Looking down, John squeezed his father's hand. "I-- this must suck for you."

 **_And I want to tell you everything_ **  
**_The words I never got to say the first time around_ **

Henry frowned, brow furrowed, But he did not look mad. "No. No--" He cracked a smile. "Similar to Eleanor, she wanted to travel Europe. Never knew exactly why--What can I say? She was a dreamer. When you went off to Geneva to study... Well, I felt as if Eleanor got her wish too." After a glance at the ceiling, Henry continued: "I realized then I had to give you space. Let you figure stuff out on your own, instead of dictating everything. Eleanor felt you could do anything, regardless of your major-- I wasn't sure if that would have solid results. I'm still not one-hundred percent convinced. But I have to believe in you. I have to believe that God will guide you to your own heart's desire, not mine. _Ultimately_ ," Henry said with a laugh, "it's a test of my faith. So no, John, this does not kill me. Trust me when I say I've faced harder battles. This one is nothing different."

 **_And I remember everything_ **  
**_From when we were the children playing in this fairground_ **  
**_Wish I was there with you now_ **

Startled, John first wished he had alcohol to blame the situation. Perhaps he would have been drunk when they poured out information that was too emotional for comfort-- _But you didn't. Henry did_ , John reminded himself. _It was inevitable._  John's head reeled, and his heart fluttered. For years it seemed Henry was an enigma, possibly disappointed of John's life choices and ignorance of any personal struggles. Now, he was still a mystery, but he was wearing his heart more or less on his professional sleeve. Yet it wasn't the result John expected-- It was a nostalgic, dreamy, supportive and even hopeful Henry Laurens who was giving his son physical and emotional liberty.

 _After all these damned years_ , John's heart sang.

John smiled, trying to soak in the bliss. "I'm... glad you told me. Thank you. I..." John shrugged, shyly meeting his father's eyes. "That's a relief."

Henry returned the smile. "In spite of everything, I am here."

 _There are many kinds of faith_ , Emmy had said.  _And many forms of strength._

 _Do not forget who you are, son, I love you. Follow the stars_ , Eleanor had said.

_Maybe if I could understand, she can be proud. And you can, too._

Somehow nothing seemed too impossible.

_They are here. We are the more loving ones-- compared to our past prejudices._

* * *

 John was exhausted when he made it back home in New York. His eyelids were heavy, and during the ride home his thoughts was a ramble of memories, possible occurrences, and of course he hoped to simply be in bed. It was about 1:00 am when John checked the time on his phone, and he groaned. He could have fallen asleep in the taxi car if it wasn't for Alex sending dozens of messages. _Go to sleep,_ John replied. It's so late. _I know it's Saturday but you need sleep._ He didn't have the energy to say much at all, so he simply looked over Alex's own replies and pinched himself to stay awake.

Using the spare key he had on his lanyard, he opened the door to his shared house with Alex and immediately felt the tension in his neck and shoulders cease. He threw his baggage on the counter and began taking off his sweater and shoes, trying not to be too loud even though he knew Alex was awake. The TV in the living room was on, and John noted the bags of food left on the table. He shook his head, amused. Alex was usually an organized person but gosh he could be an utter mess.

Not bothering to change, John went straight to the bedroom to see Alex curled up on the bed with a thin blanket around his small frame. He was staring at his phone screen with bags under his eyes, looking almost hungover with his disheveled appearance. Slowly he looked up to see John, and a tired smile graced his lips as he yawned. "Mornin', Jacky," he said in that rough, low voice John loved.

 **_Let the world leave us behind,_ **  
**_Let your heart be next to mine_ **  
**_Before the flame goes out tonight,_ **  
**_We can live until we die_ **

John smiled. "Hello, Alexander," he said gently. "I've missed you." He didn't hesitate to collapse on the bed, wrapping his arms around Alex and squeezing tight. Tucking his head into Alex's neck, the latter hummed and positioned himself so he was embracing John too. John now felt the weight of his desire to sleep and to be drowned in Alex's presence. The two got themselves comfortable; Alex laid on John's chest, face nuzzled into his jaw as one of John's arms held Alex by the waist, the opposite's hand tangled in Alex's messy ginger hair.

"I love you," John muttered, as he somehow pulled Alex closer.

Alex mumbled so brokenly that John couldn't hear any single syllable, but figured he knew the response. Smiling, he remained still and easily drifted off to sleep.

 **_If the whole world was watching I'd still dance with you_ **  
**_Drive highways and byways to be there with you_ **  
**_Over and over the only truth_ **  
**_Everything comes back to you..._ **

*

The alarm never went off, much to John and Alex's thankfulness. The two slept in until noon but still waited nearly an hour before deciding to do anything with their free day before school started again. Their conversations went from how comfortable they were to a whole compliment battle before they bantered over any stupid thing they could think of.

"What do you want to do on your first day back in the Big Apple, hmm?" Alex asked groggily, still spread out on the bed next to John.

"Mm..." John closed his eyes, stretching and taking in the bliss of the morning. "We could go to the park?"

Alex turned over, grinning. "I like that idea. Wanna stop by Starbucks?"

John narrowed his eyes. "How much coffee have you been drinking?"

"I think we all know I drink an unhealthy amount regardless."

Shaking his head, John held Alex's hand. "No. I had too much to drink at Auntie's anyway."

Alex frowned. "Coffee?"

"Funny story, actually..." Alex raised an eyebrow, and John continued: "Tequilas and shit. But that's not important. We can go to the park and you can tell me all about your badass debate meet and what's been going on in class."

"And _you_ can tell me about your alcohol spree. And about Miss Becky." Alex smirked.

If there was a retort in that sentence, John didn't recognize it. "Deal," he said.

Alex smiled and cuddled closer to John's arm. "That's a good boy."

John turned violently red, relieved he could still feel that rush of excitement even after Charleston's chaos. Even after countless epiphanies, and several misleading paths. Perhaps John was reading too much into Alex's words, but he swore there was a hint of something more to the simple statement: some inner hope, some hidden suggestion. Curiously, he leaned closer, smiling. "You think?"

"Yeah," Alex said softly.

John bit his lip. "Is that all I get?"

Alex grinned in a very suspicious, playful way. "What would you have me say, dear?"

"I ask the questions here," John whispered, joining in on the act.

"Oh? Well, then my answer is yes."

There was a pause. 

"Wait, wha--"

"You asked if that's all I have to say. My answer is yes."

"You're a _terrible_ liar, Alexander."

Alex stuck his tongue out.

"Please, you'll talk eventually. You can't control that mouth of yours." John's eyes flickered to Alex's lips, his own smile as taunting as it could be.

Alex laughed. "Well, Jack, you're _terrible_ at seducing. So there's that."

"That makes two of us," John said after an alarmed yet amused wheeze.

Sitting up, Alex grabbed a pillow from behind him and threw it at John. "I am offended," he deadpanned, and John laughed, now at the side of the bed. "You should be," was his response.

"You must be really blessed since this redhead didn't come at you."

"I'd like to see you try." John winked, and Alex looked down shyly.

"God, you're so--" He stopped himself.

John frowned. "So what?"

Alex hummed, fiddling with the sheets. "I was going to say _cute_ but then I remembered that your stubborn self tried to attack me," he said jokingly.

"You attacked me with a damned pillow."

"And I'd do it again."

John leaped toward Alex, landing halfway on top of him. After Alex stopped struggling, John said: "I remembered something too."

"And what is that?" Alex asked, genuinely intrigued.

John smiled sweetly. "How much of a _dork_ you are."

They both chuckled, not bothering to move. Alex spoke up: "In all seriousness, I'm glad you're back. This feels _amazing_ since it's been...a while." Now he didn't meet John's eyes.

John rolled onto his back so he no longer laid on top of Alex. "I agree."

A peaceful silence. Alex laid his head on John's chest, and John held him close protectively. "You know, I love it that I can go days on my own and feel all the shit I have to go through on a daily basis and still return to someone I love with all my heart." John scoffed at his own words. "God, why did you make me like this?"

"No God talk," Alex said. "Also, I'm flattered. Really. I love you too." He smiled. "So you found what you are looking for?"

John met Alex's eyes and held his gaze. "I discovered it. Again."

"You brought yourself back home..." Alex added under his breath.

"Yes." John's eyes remained on the ceiling, the great above. "I did. Just like I said I would."

*

Alex never really went to the park a lot, so taking him today was John's little treat. Really, Alex was never an outside person after he left Nevis. There just wasn't any point going outside in New York City when he was busy paying off bills with his multiple jobs and, on top of that, schooling. "You can take the man out of the city," Alex had said, "but not the city out of the man." Then John scoffed and pointed out that Alex was from farther south than he was, which was saying something. Alex pouted and said "That doesn't count," which started their first mini argument debate-worthy since John's arrival.

(Personally, John preferred the outdoors. Probably in thanks of his Southern roots, he added thoughtfully. Being cooped up inside all day wasn't his thing at all.)

Alex immediately pointed to the swings. "I'm going there," he said, completely serious and eyeing the playset as if it was a challenge. John laughed as Alex sprinted in a dramatic fashion, leaping onto the swings face-first so that the swing supported his abdomen. John applauded and whistled. "Show those swings who's boss, Alexander!"

Alex smiled sheepishly once he situated himself properly. "Come here, Jacky."

John jogged over to his friend and shook his head teasingly. "You're such a child."

Alex grinned. "I know." He patted the swing seat next to him. "Join me!"

It was a blessed image: John's legs dragged on the ground as Alex looked like he was in his natural setting, expression lit up and his messy ginger hair shining in the sunlight as if his youth hadn't been taken away from him. John's heart suddenly twisted, recalling that fact. Alex didn't have a proper childhood back on his island. He was forced to grow up too soon to take care of his family in poverty. He had faced tragedies no child should have gone through, and by fourteen he was working at an adult's pace. Now Alex's short frame almost seemed to be a terrible mockery of his previous pain.  _At least I can give him solace now_ , John though, humble. _He deserves a break from his work. To remind him of how blessed he is to be here, to show him it's never too late to turn your life around. Just like when he moved to New York. He must've thought it was impossible at some point._

"Alex, you're a living miracle."

 **_I just wanted my name in a star_ **  
**_Now look at where we at_ **  
**_Still growing up, still growing up_ **  
**_I'd be laying in my bed and dream about what I'd become_ **  
**_Couldn't wait to get older, couldn't wait to be someone_ **  
**_Now that I'm here, wishing I was still young_ **  
**_Those good old days..._ **

His friend's eyes reluctantly met John's, as if he, too, was in a haze of nostalgia. Alex simply smiled. "We both are. We made it this far."

John thought for a moment. "You know, there's one more thing you haven't told me yet."

"Yes?" Alex raised his eyebrows slyly.

John smirked. "Did King kick the other team's ass last weak?"

Alex started to rush and rumble about his last debate meet, also his first being the official leader. "You should have _seen_ Burr and Jefferson's face when I took control! _So_ fucking salty. They tried to pull some shit on me, but you know, I've got Angelica and ain't _nobody_ want to mess with her! She definitely made an impression on the other team. Barely anyone could make direct oppositions on her part-- and yes, I gave her the leading part, much to Madison's dismay-- oh, it was _glorious_. Sure, those kids still put up a fight but luckily the only downside we had was communication within our _own_ team. But our comebacks were nice. I admit, at the second quarter of the debate we were getting nervous because there were so many close calls, but somehow Burr got his shit together and straightened up everything-- thanks to my leadership, of course."

John smirked. "Of course."

"So yeah. We went savage. Perhaps we were too ruthless-- But like I say, _anything to win the day_."

"That sounds dope. Any parts you did specifically?"

Alex nodded, tucking loose strands of hair behind his ear as he continued: "Yeah, besides assigning the timing and who was to go after a particular tough point I was in charge of the counter-claim... with Jefferson. Until I called Burr back. Then he was Angelica, arranging the very ending. Generally, Washington told me he knew I could win an argument single-handedly. That's why he wanted me to be on the sidelines, controlling the game. He was testing my trust, I'm sure if it." He grew quiet, frowning like he just now thought everything through. A hint of betrayal flashed his face. "Like he knew I'd potentially explode and screw shit up, but let me take the position anyway."

"I think it was a power move," John said. "It was necessary. You _needed_ to be challenged."

"Maybe... But we can't just risk shit like that when we're so close to the grand finale-- Oh, and that's in, like, three weeks."

John nodded. Then he smiled. "I'm proud of you, Lex. After all, y'all put up a fight and still won. It _was_ your first time as captain."

"I just... I don't have serious trust issues, do I?"

There was a pause, and before John could answer Alex rushed in with "Like I know I have a 'problem with authority' but I've gotten better, right?"

"Of course you did! This proves it." John offered his hand, and Alex took it, grinning.

"That's a relief. If I'm going to be doing this political stuff professionally I gotta watch my mouth."

"You admit it!" John laughed.

Alex swatted at his shoulder playfully. "Oh, shush. I'm aware that I'm selfish and proud. I'm working on that shit, though."

John's brows furrowed. "You are not selfish..."

"Ah, but I'm proud, yes?"

"So? Aren't we all?" John sighed, an exasperated smile still lingering on his face. "You've got this, Alex. Everything will happen naturally. You just need to give it time, you know?"

 **_I wish somebody would have told me_ **  
**_That some day, these will be the good old days_ **  
**_All the love you won't forget_ **  
**_And all these reckless nights you won't regret_ **  
**_'Cause someday soon, your whole life's gonna change_ **  
**_You'll miss the magic of the good old days_ **

Averting his eyes to the sky, Alex bit his lip, contemplating. Finally, he scoffed. "I've been waiting my whole life, John. I don't think I can go through that game again." Suddenly, he stretched, nearly kicking John's thigh. " _But_ I appreciate the words. Man, we're so close to the end. So close to the final mark! And then-- and then we'll have a new life. Together." Alex grinned, eyes lighting up. "Think about it, we'll finally have our occupations figured out. And everything else..."

John wrapped his arm around Alex's shoulders. "Don't get too ahead of yourself. I just got back."

Alex blushed. "I know. But when you were gone, I remembered everything I was fighting for. Now you're here and I can actually fight them, because you give me strength. And, you know, logic so I don't accidentally kill myself."

John chuckled. "Hold on there, Alexander. Let's make it through right now, okay?"

Alex sprang up. "Good idea! Race you to the oak tree!"

"Not fair!" John yelled, hustling to move. Though Alex's legs were shorter, he definitely had more experience running. By the time John was a few feet away from the swings, Alex was already starting to climb. 

 _Now_ that's _childish Alexander._

* * *

 The pair were almost late when school arrived again. Luckily, Alex was just as impatient as he was when John was in Charleston so it was easy for him to drag the latter out of bed and force breakfast/caffeine into him so driving wouldn't be hell. Also, Maria Lewis was (as usual) a big help, giving John all the updates Alex failed to mention (for he was always busy rambling about other things that were mainly centered around him). She also gave the two extra coffees, despite John's protest.

"Oh no, don't give me that guff," she warned. "Coming back to school after that Southern holiday break or whatever is going to be hard. You'll thank me once fourth-period rolls in."

Alex nodded. "She's from Florida. She has experience!"

Maria hit him in the chest. "I've only been to Florida one time since I've left, Alexander."

And with that, John took the Starbucks cup and made his way to class. He had to admit to himself after a week of being gone and then spending three days with Alex to split up with him again during school felt odd, but he kept going anyway. _Get used to the normal schedule,_ he reminded himself. _Catch up on the work._ It was going to be hell, possibly, but it was what he had to do. _Two science quizzes, an English assignment, a world history lecture, performing..._ John read up the growing list and groaned inwardly. _At least I have a few people on my side._ Secretly, he enjoyed the work after doing nothing of the sort in Charleston. The real downside was missing quality time with Alex, and all those art projects he was trying to finish...

Fifth period came and John was amazed with Maria's accurate prediction. He _was_ tired. Tired of coffee, he settled for orange juice instead and splashed water on his face before stepping inside the classroom. Understanding the struggle, Washington reassured today was a reviewing day for all the content they covered when John was away. John said his thanks and thanked God for good ol' George who luckily knew enough of teen recklessness to give these bastards a break here and there amidst the extending curriculum. 

It was especially exciting to have Alex's actual debate members in the same fifth period as he. Still obviously buzzing with the win, Angelica, Thomas, Madison, and Burr all surrounded Alex, occasionally whispering remarks as Washington constantly made reference to their hard work. As their next personal assignment, Washington told them to help John with the note-taking of the day. Perhaps it was supposed to be a joke, since his best friend happened to be the captain now. _Thanks, Washington_.

Alex smirked as he sat right next to John. "They know I've told you everything."

Thomas snorted. "Perhaps with bias, I assure."

Ignoring the remark, Alex nodded to Angelica. "I think my friend here needs pointers, Ang. Tell 'em how we do."

Angelica chuckled, tapping her freshly-done pink nails on the desk and straightening the matching tie she wore. "The _atmosphere_ blows we away every single time. Just the rush you feel when you _know_ your team is about to slay some asses.... Now that's what I call accomplishments." She went on about the typical experiences the team has had in the past, and though John was focusing and even taking note on how much Alex would completely agree, he kept feeling Thomas's eyes analyze him all over, like _John_  had something to do with Alex's own taunts and their continued rivalry. He knew it wasn't personal, but still, something told him the heat was rising around him. 

John glanced at Alex. He looked overly smug. _Yep, that confirms it._

After Angelica was done with her mini storytelling, she busied herself by letting Alex tutor her in French. Of course, this gave Thomas the perfect opportunity to slide right in with whatever he was slyly planning.

"So," he said, addressing John, "I've noticed you've never been part of the active audience in regards to the debate. Reasonable, since most of our meets _are_ in another school. Are you ever planning on coming?"

John nodded, a little uneasily. "Yes. Grand finale? I'll be there. You can count on that." He offered Thomas a small smile.

Thomas returned it, though it was too sickly sweet to be true. Or perhaps that was John's inner Alex speaking. "That's great. I'm sure Alex would like that."

Now uncomfortable, John shrugged. "Yeah. He would." Wow. Maybe he was used to Alex's lack of subtle retorts, but Thomas's calmness was odd. _He's just trying to get under your skin,_ John scolded himself. _He's no threat._ Something about that thought reassured John, and halfway smirking, he said: "Actually, I was just wondering, Thomas... How _have_ you guys been since Alex has become the leader?" John tilted his head innocently, trying to leave his facial expressions neutral. "You guys must be so proud. All those years and you finally get someone who can hold up such a position! Don't tell me Alex has been extra braggy?"

Thomas seemed to pause for a moment, pursing his lips as if this certainly wasn't the reaction he was looking for. However, he regained his composure and shrugged himself, copying John's previous response. "Not much as changed. It's odd-- Alexander having the official title, or whatever." Now he snorted. "Guess we all saw it coming. We all know how much Washington pities that boy." Rolling his eyes and nonchalantly returning to his notes, no more was said by Alex's long-term rival. 

John was irritated but also shocked. He glanced over at Alex, still muttering in French with Angelica, to see if he had noticed anything. Alex, however, strictly had his back turned.

"You're right, you know."

John jumped, whipping around to see Aaron Burr, who apparently saw the whole exchange. He had an expression of polite amusement, a small smile being formed. His dark, chocolate eyes seemed to be looking into John's mind as if he was interrogating. Like usual, he dressed in that formal, intimidating way in which made you wish you looked as classy as well. 

Burr continued his explanation: "Alexander _can_ pull off such a position. Don't mind Thomas-- Obviously the change in power would have caused a type of... ah, jealousy, if you will." He chuckled, and Thomas snapped up immediately. "False," he muttered darkly. Burr simply waved him off, and nodded to James (who was at Thomas's left) to take care of the problem.

James mouthed something that looked like _This again,_ and he easily captured Thomas's fleeting attention span with some sparkly pen that _had_ to either belong to Thomas or Angelica. John assumed the former, praying for whoever may be a victim of Angelica's wrath.

As if this whole exchange was normal, Burr continued: "It's obvious Alex would get the position. He's very... ruthless that way." Burr took a sip of his tea, and John wondered how any being could possibly be so unconcerned with anything and yet... well, _spill the tea._

"Oh yeah, I get it." _Seriously, how come Alex hadn't said anything yet? He usually had superhuman sense when it came to people gossiping about him. Why now of all times to be quiet?_

Burr sat his cup down, then winced apologetically. "This must be boring to you," he said. 

"No, no," John reassured. "It's nice to hear about you guys. Alex talks about y'all all the time." Then he rushed: "Well, all good things, of course."

"Of course."

"He really loves what he does." It was so odd to talk about Alex as if he wasn't even in the same room, and John increasingly turned red, the guilt already catching up with him. He felt like one of those overly proud, talkative mothers bragging that their kid won the spelling bee for the third year in a row.

Burr nodded. "And that's evident through his hard work. I just hope he doesn't overdo it." He mused the last part, sounding genuinely concerned. "He's great with words. That's a fact. If he could strive in his impulse control just the same, we'd be set." Chuckling a little, he sipped again. "I can't believe Angelica was waving off her own success. We do this for a reason-- That credit is so essential if you're in debate."

"Right-- Actually, I don't know a whole lot about the system or anything... But I'm sure King will have the most credits received, right? If we-- I mean you guys-- win the finale?"

Burr nodded. "Captains get special recognition, too." Glancing at Alex for the first time, as if considering something, he added: "That's why it's important for any debate directors to choose wisely." 

 **_People like to tell you what you're gonna be_ **  
**_It's not my problem if you don't see what I see_ **  
**_And I do not give a damn if you don't believe_ **

Suddenly John felt as is he was witnessing something he wasn't supposed to. Sure, compared to the beginning of the club's run, everyone's relationship has improved. But is it possible that after all the stress of winning all their countless efforts trying to improve themselves were starting to take personal tolls? Thomas seemed like his _usual_ catty self. James had the _usual_ amount of exasperation. Burr himself just seemed like he was taking in his surroundings, observing the pros and cons and even silently searching for John's opinion on the matter. 

_Perhaps that's it. Hanging around Alexander has made you paranoid._

He was observing the actions. But what John was feeling, compared to that, was slightly off.

John decided to agree. "Yes. You have to be wise to lead a group of people like this-- extremely ambitious."

 **_Are you satisfied with an average life?_ **  
**_Do I need to lie to make my way in life?_ **

"That is why I hope we're making the right steps." Just before Burr turned around for good, he asked: "John, do you think perhaps one could still receive the credit regardless of the winning position?"

John frowned. "I do not recall knowing the checks and balances in this ordeal. But if I were to guess--and hope-- I'd say yes."

Burr smiled, his white teeth blinding. "It's an interesting thing to think about." 

All of Burr's charisma could not necessarily reassure John.

Finally, Alex turned around, raising an eyebrow. John met his eyes and shrugged, internally laughing at himself. Alex's expression silently reassured him that nothing that was happening should be taken too seriously. _They're dorks,_ he mouthed, and John chuckled softly to himself, focusing on the notes.

 _We have to win. They'll get the glory-- and so what if Alex has more of a title to lean on? I dare say of all people here he deserves it._ Satisfied, John had another thought: _Nevis would be proud._ It was an afterthought, mind you, barely emphasized. But it worked. 

*

Right before John left to go to sixth period, he pulled Alex to the side. "Thank you," he muttered in Alex's ear.

Alex looked up, pleased but confused. "I didn't--What?"

John kissed his forehead. "I'm proud of you." 

"Oh..." Alex blushed. "Thanks. You too." He squeezed John's hand.

Then they parted ways.

Eventually, the last period of the day arrived and catching up wasn't hard at all. Eliza and Maria greeted John excitedly with extra hugs and immediately shared the updates of the performing arts program.

"...So we already have three songs chosen, and another one to decide on," Eliza was saying, twisting at her pearl necklace nervously. "I personally feel that without you, the tenor section has been a little... What's the best word to use? _Off-key_ \--"

"Slow," Maria said smugly without any hesitation.

Eliza rolled her eyes. "A little. We're still strong, it's just figuring out all the kinks for the performance. It should be the week after the debate-- That's on a Friday, right?"

"Right," John and Maria said in unison.

Eliza nodded. "Okay... We have a decent time for you to learn the songs and whatnot. Also, the selection..."

"Student selection," Maria finished for her. "There are a few specific honorary parts that are still being mixed around. We need help planning and assigning those parts... Not to even _mention_ the wardrobe."

"Oh no," Eliza said, fanning herself. "Let's not stress him out _too_ badly on his first day back..."

John laughed. "Y'all are okay. I'm a little lost, but we can catch up. We have a lot of strong performers here and the best director King has known. We've got this. Besides, I should have spare time..."

Maria raised an eyebrow. "Despite all that homework you have now?"

John waved her off. "I have Alex, remember?"

Maria smirked, sharing a look with Eliza. "Right..."

"Other than that, I swear I'm free. I have no other volunteer work or family shit to catch up with. We should be good."

Eliza nodded. "Well, no time discussing. There's work to do!" She cheerfully pulled both John and Maria by the arm, to the pianos where students were already running around practicing and getting countless other things organized. The reality of that _and_ Alex's debate match... It was going to be a _long_ next few weeks. 

*

...And John's luck was already running out.

As he was leaving the classroom and entering the hallway, he nearly bumped into Alexander's petite figure as the latter rushed straight up to him, obviously on a mission. John frowned. "What's wro--"

"What the hell did Thomas say to you?"

"I'm sorry, wha--"

"I'm serious!" Alex flushed pink with annoyance, perhaps embarrassment. "What were you guys talking about?"

John's shoulders tensed as he tried to remember. "I mean-- He was wondering about your position, but--"

"Is that it?" Alex tried to stand on the tips of his toes, obviously irritated with whatever problem his mind was coding out. John grabbed Alex firmly by the shoulders. "What is going _on_? Are you okay?"

Alex huffed. "I'm sorry, John, I don't have time for this."

"Alex!" John grabbed his wrist. "Just tell me what's--"

"Why don't you just let Jeffershit tell you!?" Alex cried out, impatient. "Apparently he's already hinting shit and I have to go--"

" _Alexander_ ," John said, forcing out Alex's full name. Alex immediately stopped struggling against John's grasp and met his eyes. "Look, I don't know what it's about, but we're going to go over this and figure it out, okay? Just. Calm down for me, Lex. I'm sure you're making this into something it's not. Hey, breathe. Look at me." John tilted Alex's chin upward gently. "What's up?"

Alex clenched his eyes shut, probably to avoid John seeing frustrated tears forming in his anxious eyes. He looked down, a little ashamed. "I'm sorry. Just-- forget about it for now. I don't-- You know what? I don't care anymore. Just--" He quickly squeezed John's hand. "Goodbye."

 **_High achiever, don't you see?_ **  
**_Baby, nothing comes for free_ **  
**_They say I am a control freak_ **  
**_Driven a greed to succeed_ **  
**_Nobody can stop me_ **

And he quickly walked away, getting lost into the rushing crowd of students. John eyes followed Alex until he couldn't make him out, dumbly standing there. Alex was extremely defensive about his status but why would he be so irritated as to almost cry? Why was he concerned about John of all people? Thomas hadn't said much at all! Thinking about it made John wonder, what was really at stake here? Was there gossip regarding Alex's new position that could result in failure, especially with the finale so close? Was it a personal attack? John sighed in frustration, making it to class. There were two things that personally pissed off Alex the most: 1) retorts regarding his background and 2) retorts regarding John.

Alex had been so blunt, so ready for--what? For _John of all people_ to... to do the wrong thing?

 **_Are you satisfied with an easy ride?_ **  
**_Once you cross the line_ **  
**_Will you be satisfied?_ **

_He's a damn mystery_ , John said, trying to find a curse. But he couldn't. Because God, he loved Alex's complex nature, even if this was too far from the norm. 

*

Before the last period was over, Alex had texted John an apology. The latter huffed, concerned but also relieved Alex was calming down. Reassuringly, John said everything was okay and he wasn't mad.

_We'll talk in the car, okay?_

John replied: _Okay. I love you Alex._

 _Thanks_. And, after a few minutes, _I love you too._

The rest of the class was a blur since John was still recovering from shock and confusion, but as soon as the bell rang John speed walked to the parking lot, occasionally glancing around for Alex who seemed to be out of sight. Usually, John would wait for Alex, but in the rush of the former's emotions, that plan was forgotten. Reflecting on this, John realized perhaps he was worrying Alex, but couldn't fix that in the time being.

When Alex arrived--roughly two minutes later-- he was panting, pulling his hair up in a more firm position. "Sorry," he managed, sheepish but apparently amused. "I forgot how crowded the parking lot could be without a tall knight in shining armor leading the way."

John snorted, smile coming back to him as if it never left. "You're an idiot sometimes." Alex blushed, heading his way to opening the car. "But you're my idiot."

 **_They don’t know how special you are_ **  
**_They don’t know what you’ve done to my heart_ **  
**_They can say anything they want 'cause they don’t know about us_ **

At this, Alex grinned tauntingly at John, as if he had been the one to say the quip. "Damn right," he agreed easily. "And this idiot's gonna explain everything."

"Good." Before John could turn around, Alex leaped toward him and hugged his waist tightly, head resting on his chest. Wordlessly, John hugged back.

Once they were formally out of the parking lot Alex decided to speak. "So..." The latter started, adjusting his seatbelt accordingly and taking a sip of some random water bottle he had found in the car. "That was terribly messy, and like most wrongdoings aimed at me these days, I blame Thomas."

"Of course you do," John muttered, shaking his head but smiling nevertheless.

"Right. So, uh, I knew you guys were talking in history class but I wasn't too concerned, honestly, until I mentioned it to Thomas. He was like, 'Oh, your boyfriend must be so proud,' in the most sarcastic way possible, and I don't know, he reminded me of a few arguments we had... when you were in Charleston. He was basically alluding to how even you wanted to leave me--or whatever-- and obviously, that's not the case because we love each other, right? So--"

"Right," John firmly said, eyes furrowed.

"Yeah, and I just... When you got back I guess I kind of wanted to just. Show you off, I guess? Like, 'I'm the leader now and look! I have the greatest friend ever still at my side so fuck your derogatory opinions about my social life!' type thing?"

John nodded slowly. While contemplating the best reply, Alex continued: "I don't know. It seems so stupid. Like, who gives a shit? I have a better position, we're so close to winning, I don't even hate Jefferson!" After a pause of Alex reocvering his own shock at that statement, he continued: "...No. I really don't! I. DON'T. HATE. THOMAS. This club strangely made me see that he's not an awful human being. He's witty, he's fun, he's actually smart when he's not hypocritical as hell. I guess what I'm trying to say is it sucks that he doesn't... can't respect me." Alex facepalmed himself. "Why do I even care, John? Why should I care? Oh, my God. After our stupid fucking rivalry and all those gossips of 'Oh, you're a whore,' or 'Oh, you were probably a stripper in the Caribbean,' or 'Oh, you're broke, you're a liar, you're manipulative,' etc. from him and everyone else who opposes me, and we're still at this stage!"

John turned to Alex, tilting his head.

"What?" Alex asked.

"At least you feel better enough to rant."

Alex swatted his arm playfully. "Fuck you."

"You want my response?" John asked, taking a deep breath. "Okay. Here it is: People think you have a problem with authority. And you know-- maybe that's a little true. But it's not that you want to be the best, or you have a lack of respect, or whatever. It's that you _want to be respected_. Alex, you want a family. I know it's a scary thought, but you love these people. You're part of something now, and you want to make the most of it... In regards to social life, your career..." Alex's eyes turned hazy as he seemed to process John's words. "It's tough being the one who's tired of waiting, so ready to make a stand, so incredibly ambitious. Frankly, people may be scared of what you can accomplish. Because they feel threatened--and scared. They want respect, too."

Alex nodded. "So-- bottom line?"

 

**_They don’t know what we do best, that’s between me and you, our little secret_ **

**_But I wanna tell 'em_ **  
**_I wanna tell the world that you're mine..._ **

John smiled. "Our conclusion is this: Calm down. Work at the finale. Try to mend a few things while you're at it. Trust yourself, trust me. Right now is not the time to stress yourself over things that are in the past. I just got here, you know."

Alex wheezed trying to force a laugh. "Sorry."

"It's okay." He returned his focus to the road. "Look, I know you want King to have victory and get whatever special requirements that come out of this, but it'll come. Let's just enjoy our time together, okay?"

"Okay," Alex said, tone calmed.

"And by the way..." John mused. "I think Thomas is just stressed, too. Maybe jealous because regardless of what anyone else thinks, I'm always going to be by your side. Don't worry about me, Alex. You don't have to 'show me off' or whatever, though I find that flattering."

Alex bit his lip, then smirked, shaking his head. John was sure he saw a pink blush. "I guess you can say you're my little cheerleader."

"Oh, God," John scoffed. "Don't make it sound so raunchy."

Alex grinned. "Just be lucky I didn't play the song."

John faked a shiver and Alex laughed. "Okay, so this bullshit is behind us. Welcome back to New York City, Jack! You really get the content you pay for."

The rest of the ride home was full of jokes, laughter and gossip-- the very last being for Alex's own sake.

*

The pair got home and as Alex sipped coffee and did his homework, John immediately went on the couch and binged _The Office_. Alex gave John a half-hearted scolding look, and John shrugged. "In my defense," he said, "it's been a long day. I know I have a shit ton of work to do too but I gotta have a moment of nonsense fun."

Alex shook his head, faking a look of disappointed. "Poor Jacky's too tired to even stand, look at his poor face."

John stuck his tongue out and continued to watch TV, constantly making Alex laugh with side comments and a whole rant about Oscar Martinez deserving happiness. "Honestly," John said, "there needs to be more rep for my fellow gays. Look at him. He wants a solid relationship! Hell, no one in this damn show has one apparently. I mean, Jim and Pam were doing so great but _no_. Oscar needs a break. He's tired of the heterosexual drama."

"More like _Michael_ 's drama," Alex snorted.

After three more episode, John finally began his work. Alex practically did all of John's math homework as the latter tried to catch up on the songs he'd be singing in theatre. He got frustrated many times, but thanks to Alex's encouragement managed to have two whole hours of nothing but rehearsal and an open group chat with Eliza to help him. Afterward, John was so tired he passed out on the couch and snored a lot more loud than he did when he first arrived back from Charleston. 

Alex smiled warmly at his friend, wrapping a blanket around him as he slept peacefully. Then he typed away at his extracurricular assignment Washington had given him the day before that helped prep him for the debate finale. Alex was so distracted he hadn't even realized how silent the atmosphere was. Distracted by the lack of noise, he tapped his pencil harshly on the desk. Right now was really not the time to think too deeply about things, he reminded himself. John was back, and that's lovely. The finale is here-- and that's great too, but work was still to be done. Alex nodded, taking a deep breath. His shoulders ceased in tension. He had everything he wanted, mostly. He was extremely proud.

Suddenly a phone rang, and since it wasn't Drake's _Gods Plan,_ Alex knew it was John's. Frowning, he quickly snatched John's phone before it could wake up his sleeping beauty. It was an 843 area code number, the titled reading _Emmy_. Martha Manning. Not wanting to invade any privacy, Alex simply sat the phone down.

John apparently had waken up. "Who was that?"

"Em--I mean Martha. Go back to sleep, John. You need it."

John frowned. "Why would Emmy be calling me?"

"I'm not sure."

John sat up, gesturing for Alex to give him the phone. Alex obliged.

After a few seconds of waiting, John asked, "Hello?" and got a response-- one he wasn't looking for at all. He looked immediately look shocked, eyes widening, then confused. " _What_? How are you doing this?"

Alex waited patiently for the call to be over, finding John's dumbstruck behavior disturbing. Then, most appalling: "Is Emmy with you?"

_Is Emmy with you?_

_What?_

"Why is she-- Is she okay? What do you mean--" Then he was silenced. The room stilled, waiting for his reponse, and Alex's heart raced with worry. After a few more seconds, John's hoarse voice said: "Okay. Yeah. I'm so sorry, I'll-- be on my way." John stopped the call, then put his face in his hands. He managed a shaky breath, and Alex rushed toward him. "Is Emmy okay? What happened? John, I--"

"I don't know, Alexander, but that was Melanie."

Alex frowned.

John inhaled deeply. "Melanie Kinloch. Francis is back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm :)) trying :)) for real these days i feel like death  
> but for real my AP classes take over my life so i'm either going to a) take a break from this and maybe work on other things or b) make really, REALLY slow upates... both anger me efjknfkls but on a lighter note thanks for all the support i have thus far. i hope i can share more of my story soon <3 comments keep my soul alive
> 
> references:  
> Don't You Worry Child  
> The Nights  
> Raging Fire  
> This Town  
> Good Old Days  
> Are You Satisfied?  
> They Don't Know About Us (rip me)  
> God's Plan (ringtone) (interesting fact: my own ringtone is God's Plan. it went off in class a few days ago, lol)
> 
> my business also explains the lack of quality references hhh


	10. Our fault & philosophy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An attempt to confront the wrongdoings made, John somehow digs his personal grave even deeper. 
> 
> this is the drama i promised two chapters ago annnd look it's like a month later... i have my reasons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> took a while to stop the choppy time skips. but i finished! (also i didn't want to post in october, that's John's birth month)

Of course it was John's fatal mistake. Of _course_ it was Kinloch.

After several minutes of pacing and anxiously mumbling under his breath, John finally let Alex pull him aside. "Look," the second hot ginger of his life was saying, "I don't know exactly what this is about, but I'd might as well go to hell if I'm not helping you--and I am, John." Alex gripped his shoulder passionately. "Who the hell is Francis?"

"I-- well, it's a debt thing..."

"Yo owe 'em money?" Alex's eyes blazed. "Because I can help lend--"

"What? _No_ , Alex. I don't owe him money."

"Is he some guy I need to beat up?" Alex asked, forcing himself to stand up taller. "Is he in a gang? Oh, if only I could--"

" _Alex_. Get a grip on yourself," John begged. "No, I mean emotionally. He owes _me_. Alexander, this isn't just some guy like I'd want you to believe. He--" John suddenly got choked up again, cursing himself. "We didn't leave on good terms."

Alex narrowed his eyes. "I'm going to kill him."

John laughed bitterly, feeling his eyes sting. "I'll help you hide the body."

Alex's eyes softened. He averted his eyes, tensing his shoulders and exhaling sharply as if impatient. "Hey..." He laid his hand on top of John's. "No one messes with your family. Or you, _period_. I'll help you fuck this player up, regardless of who the bitch is. Is he like, rich or something?"

John snorted. "Not anymore. At least, last time I heard there was a rumor he was disowned for doing stupid shit. Or something."

Alex nodded. John could tell by his expression that he was scheming something-- and that's how he knew this ordeal was going to be hell. Alexander doesn't hold back so easily. If he wanted something, he'd take any means necessary to do it. Especially when it came to competition.

"Okay. Okay..." He seemed to be calming down for John's sake. As much as he could, anyway. "So we go back to South Carolina."

John furrowed his eyebrows. "And?"

" _And_? We find him, demand answers, tell him to get out of your damn personal life and leave. Simple."

John sighed, long and reluctant. He knew he was dragging both of them into trouble. "Alexander... it's not that simple."

 **_But I'm hoping that the gates, they'll tell me that you're mine_ **  
**_Walking through the city streets_ **  
**_Is it by mistake or design?_ **

"How come?" Alex cried, clenching his fist stubbornly. "John, if he did something to hurt you he's going to _pay_ , you hear? I can't just-- why-- What kind of friend would I be if I let him get away with this?" Trying to compose himself, he managed to spit out the rest of his swear: "There's a lot of people in this world that deserve their own wickedness to be thrown back at them, but my dear John Laurens, you are _not_  one of them. I can fight... I've done so before." He contemplated his odds. "Sure, he may be taller than me--"

"Very," John said dryly, trying to keep himself from vomiting the rest of his nerves up.

"--but that hasn't stopped me before. You remember that day at the bar--"

"Where we met," John said softly, letting himself smile despite his world crumbling. He relaxed when he noted Alex visibly sobered, a mask of roughness falling, revealing tired eyes and dropping stamina. "Yeah..." the latter agreed, biting his lip. "When the iconic duo started."

John held out his arms, pulling Alex into an embrace as Alex chuckled-- perhaps even with fear. "John?" he whispered softly. "Look, I love you. I told you I was going to be part of your journey. I'm going to fight any demons you have."

"Ghosts," John corrected, bordering on melancholy. "Not demons."

**_'Cause you and I, we were born to die_ **

" _Regardless_ ," Alex promised firmly, "I'm fighting them all with you, beside you, all day and every day. Do you trust me?"

"With everything I have."

There was a small pause. Alex gently rubbed the back of John's neck, dominate in the hug despite the height distance. "You don't have to be haunted forever. And you're not going to be. I'm here. We can handle this. We have time. Remember? That's what you said. We have time."

John nodded, forcing a laugh. He detached himself from Alex's arms but held on anyway. "You're right. Like usual I guess, huh?"

"Well, it is a talent." Alex smirked, and John rolled his eyes, roughly swinging his arm around Alex's neck. "I believe you."

"Good." Alex looked up at John, smiling still. "We got this," he said breathlessly. "Now... now we wait. I mean, I want a nap after all this gossip and drama and _ugh_." He threw his head back dramatically, and after being prompted by Alex's smirk, John began tickling Alex's exposed belly. An impulsive move, but it worked, and it was definitely better than grabbing the nearest sharp object and throwing it across the room. The two began to play-fight, John trying to keep up with Alex's dodges and Alex trying to squirm his way from John's bigger figure. Eventually, Alex escaped John's grasp and the latter abruptly jumped after him, almost falling in the process. 

"Woah, prince," Alex said, supporting John's torso. "Not yet, we need to be as able as possible to destroy our enemy."

 _Our_. "Who happens to be a ginger..." John now saw the fact as a useless observation he reminded himself just to mock the situation as if humor could hide the resentment in the words.

"I know we gingers are obsessed with you or whatever, but God really has us played." Alex meant it as a joke, chuckling away, but John couldn't help but to think _Or maybe I'm the obsessed one, the one that made that mistake..._  Because that's what he and Francis were. A mistake. Alex didn't know the whole story yet. 

John swallowed. He loved Alex, not Francis. The latter could never live up to Alex's image, Alex's words, Alex's touch, Alex's way of simply being himself that ultimately drove John crazy with desire, hope, and love. But still, the comparison was there. John remembered one day he thought maybe Francis could give him those things. Now, having talented, beautiful Alexander... the thought was sickening.

That night, he let Alex talk up a storm of random, amusing revelations for hours until they fell asleep watching _The Office_ on TV. It was a wonderful distraction, even with John's own personal silence.

*

Action had to be taken sooner or later. Though Alex knew how much his time discussing with the debate team was critical now that they were so close to the finale, he managed to work out a detailed schedule with Washington excusing his absence. In reality, Washington was more concerned for Alex's well-being, regardless of the reasoning behind it. "I don't know," Alex fretted to himself, "it looks bad to have the captain to just blow off everything... I see why he'd be mad. But never mind, this is a righteous cause." So he accompanied John to Charleston, trying to relieve the latter's building guilt and anxiety. 

 _Things feel concluded and right, and then the world wants to change my mind,_ John cursed. 

"Welcome to my life," Alex sympathized. "It's fine, we can take care of this. Then everything will be more or less normal, and you can continue to make up all that work you previously missed."

" _Fuck_!" John cried, packing as much homework as he could in his bag. "I knew I was forgetting something. Too bad they don't make excuses for emotional trauma in school, damn."

"Things pop up, John. It's okay." Alex grabbed his hand.

"I know it's the right thing to do-- help Emmy, face my fears-- but I have a life, I was at a good spot. I guess? So... I mean, is this worth it, Alex? Truly, do you think it's worth it?"

 _**We are searchlights, we can see in the dark** _  
_**We are rockets, pointed up at the stars** _  
_**We are billions of beautiful hearts** _  
_**And you sold us down the river too far** _

Looking straight into John's eye, Alex said: "Yes, John. It's very much worth it."

So it was decided. Texts were exchanged with Eliza and Maria, vaguely so they wouldn't worry but the point was made: additional academic help may be needed when they arrive in New York again-- for John, it would be the second time doing so this month. But neither specified that.

The only person getting direct answers was Emmy. She knew they were coming, and John knew she felt just as guilty as he, dragging people into personal problems to abruptly when things seemed to be concluded already. 

 _John,_ she warned in a text, _please, take care of yourself. Don't do anything impulsive. I know you want to help but I'm helping you, too._

He replied: _You're my family--arguably the only person I can talk to down there. I'm helping, and you can't stop me. I love you._

 _I love you too._ And, reluctantly: _Francis had changed. I know you'll do the right thing._

John didn't reply.

 _**What about us?** _  
_**What about all the times you said you had the answers?** _  
_**What about us?** _  
_**What about all the broken happy ever afters?** _  
_**What about us?** _  
_**What about all the plans that ended in disaster?** _  
_**What about love? What about trust?** _  
_**What about us?** _

*

Before their hasty departure, Alex took time to properly confront John. "Hey, Jacky..." They were outside, look out at the sunset, enjoying the slight breeze. John looked up, eyes hazy from his mediated state. Alex wrung his hands nervously, a habit he had developed. He messed with his loose ginger hair before sitting down to enjoy his dear's company. "Maybe I was too pushy earlier," he admitted, " _I_ personally want to beat the shit out of this Franco guy--"

"Francis," John corrected.

"Whatever. Who names their boy Francis? Ew."

John chuckled.

"But... you're right. Everything was in its normal flow. You just got back from Charleston, which was adventure enough. I don't want to take you out of your personal solace. I just fear that..." Alex stopped as if he didn't know he had a lot of fears. "I know you said you had ghosts. I don't want-- I don't want you to be-- like me." Alex looked frustrated, having to push his words out like that. Apparently, when he was younger he had a stutter around strangers, and so he worked his whole life to always sound eloquent. Of course, his guard dropped around John so he knew Alex's voice even if it wasn't his usual lengthy, fast-paced and charming structure. 

Still, the words surprised John. "Like you?"

 _**We are problems that want to be solved** _  
_**We are children that need to be loved** _  
_**We were willin', we came when you called** _  
_**But, man, you fooled us, enough is enough** _

Alex shrugged. "I don't have ghosts. I think sometimes I should. But-- I mean, I don't forget my past. But part of me doesn't face it anymore. Sometimes I think that makes me corrupt, in a way. Wanting to sustain an image that I'm not, keeping a facade when it reality I should just be honest with myself." He surveyed John-- not with desire or interest, but curiosity. "I know you have that mask, too. You want everyone to see you as _saint Laurens, precious gentleman_ even though you are painfully aware of your so-called downfalls. You're not corrupt, no, not like me, and you're not exactly a liar like me either. But I don't want you to think you have to be that perfect image. If you face this, if you can win... and I know you will... then maybe you can be free in your own skin. Because you deserve it, John. You really do." He laid his head down on John's shoulders. "I'd personally want to get you there-- to see you bloom. But also because I'm selfish. I want to be the one, of all people, to see you like that."

John smiled, ruffling Alex's hair. "Caring about me doesn't make you selfish."

"Oh, John. Selfish people never change. Isn't that why you strongly find this Francis distasteful?"

_**What about us?** _

John thought for a moment. Even if he were to piss off Francis and tell him off, what good would it do? Would Francis be sorry? _Is_ Francis sorry? Could he change? _Has_ he changed? So many unanswered questions, so little time, _so much fear_. 

Considering the question, John thoughtfully said: "I blame myself for being selfish, Alexander. All the time. He was to blame too, but... sometimes I wonder. I really do." Sighing, he pulled Alex closer, nuzzling his forehead. "I don't have proper conclusions because I always tried to hide what I had done, tried to ignore what I had felt. It was betrayal, but I can't tell if it was him or me the whole time. Maybe he never loved me, maybe I loved him, and so I cheated myself and went against my own judgment to indulge in my questioning state of mind."

"'Love'?" Alex asked.

Right, Alexander doesn't know the nature of the relationship. 

"Yeah... love. A dangerous thing."

"Oh, it's terribly lethal."

"Very selfish at times."

"Extremely difficult."

"Very passionate, and fiery."

"Outrageously uncontrollable."

John kissed Alex's forehead. "Kind of like you, hmm?" Alex blushed, and John continued: "Perhaps I can deal with that."

Alex touched John's neck tenderly. "Perhaps."

*

The ride to Charleston was normal enough. This was Alex's second major trip, John realized in awe. In the past, he was stuck at Nevis. Then he moved to New York City and never wanted to leave outside its borders--until now. "I admit," John said, "I'm kind of self-conscious now. This is my home, and I'm happy to share it with you. But... it's not as likable, I guess. Then there's my family..."

Alex rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. You're acting as if some Southern shabbiness is going to faze me. Been there, done that. Plus, it's not like I'm actually meeting your parents, right?" He squeezed his friend's hand with a childish grin. "I can't wait to see your home," he said genuinely, and that was the end of it.

To pass time, Alex ranted about random things and they decided to tell jokes as usual. Sometimes they'd drift on into a comfortable silence, soaking in the fact that they were on this journey once again, and the outcome was either going to be satisfying or very, _very_ messy. 

Eventually, Alex became tired but was too jittery to relax. "I'm not used to sitting steal with nothing to do, but if I hypothetically wanted to write, I wouldn't be able to because of the motion--"

John cut off Alex's quick, choppy worrying with: "Yo, Alex, don't stress. That's my job, remember?" John gently pulled Alex closer to his chest. Alex tucked his head over John's and inhaled that familiar spearmint scent. "You don't mind? With the other...people...?" Alex asked timidly.

John stubbornly shook his head, actually forgetting they were in public. Trying to ignore the blush lingering on his cheeks, he said: "'Course not. It's not anything to hide... I mean..."

Alex sighed happily and began to sleep, John rubbing his back soothingly until he also calmed down.

*

By the time the pair reached Charleston, they had a plan. Three, to be exact.

Plan A was to talk to Emmy, cheer her up, and make sure no other funny business was going around. Little to no contact with the man of the hour himself. Hopefully, the situation wasn't as bad as it seemed, so confrontation might not be necessary. John seriously doubted that, but Alex tried to reassure him that maybe the solution took maybe a little bribery or gossip to get the opponent to back off.

"Questioning might throw 'em off," Alex reasoned.

John rolled his eyes fondly. "I see why they made you captain now, huh?"

"Shut up, Jacky."

Plan B was to console Emmy but face Francis too. Of course, that meant John had to be verbally prepared-- and calm enough not to end up simply beating the shit out of said opponent. "I don't know what words to use," John said, frowning. 

"No problem, I'll write you a general memo."

"Alex, this has to be done on my terms."

"I'll ghostwrite exactly what I think you'd say."

"No," John sighed. "That's not good enough. This is simply something I can't prepare for. Not like debate club."

Alex's eyes brightened. "Like a freestyle."

John scoffed. "Yes, but where does that lead me?"

Alex shrugged. "Good point. Just--trust your instinct."

"My instincts suck." Really, if John's emotional vulnerableness got him into such a tricky situation, how could he trust it to bring him out?

"Okay... Okay. No big deal. I think we have an idea on how not to say things, at least, right?"

"Barely. We'll have to wait and see."

"Unfortunately."

Plan C was basically a general "last resort" whether that meant fighting, or running away, or... well, they weren't sure. But it was _something_. They've survived one before, but then again, getting almost arrested for the second time wouldn't look so good, with their college graduation fairly close.

"Emmy might have an idea," John said. "She told me-- she told me he changed. A little." He didn't know if it was the truth. _Selfish people never change_. But he couldn't fully antagonize the guy. He was human too, right? Rage still clung fiercely to John's heart, and yet he warned himself against hate. It was the one thing he was running from, too.

Alex narrowed his eyes but nodded. "It's a start."

"Indeed. We have to lead this to the fault in our stars."

Smirking, Alex took this opportunity to quote Shakespeare. "'The fault is not in our stars, dear Brutus, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.'"

John smiled slowly. "Perhaps. But... Maybe, just maybe, there are more things in heaven and earth than dreamt in your philosophy."

The expression on Alex's face went from shocked, impressed, and then to fond. Two different journeys, to different beliefs, but all together they had that shared fate. "Well, then," he said. "Deep down, you know what you're doing. Let's rock this bitch."

*

Emmy had been nervously waiting. She had opened the door quite timidly, flashing a quick smile too feverish to be her own. Her blonde curls were messier than its usual neat arrangement, and her delicate blue eyes seemed to be sunken from crying and perhaps lack of sleep. She offered the boys something to drink, and though John was about to protest, Alex slapped his arm and politely encouraged it. "She's not ready," Alex whispered, and John nodded. Somehow, they had switched emotional roles.

The blonde came back with sweet tea. Sitting down and taking a deep breath, she barely met John's eyes. She knew what was coming.

"Em," John said gently, "please, tell me as much as you can bear. All of it."

Nodding, it took her a while to find the proper words, but the story came. "I-- I knew he was in town when you came, John," she said, guilty. "I didn't want to tell you anything because I knew it was already hard for you, just to be here and to... face everyone."

John nodded. That was completely true. Emmy had hidden the affair so no worry and suspicion would be aroused. He could relate to that, and thus he was grateful for Emmy's decision.

She wiped away a tear and continued: "I didn't want to burden you. I wanted you to be happy. So I kept quiet."

John swallowed harshly.

"No one in the family associates with the Kinlochs anyway, but they came because Francis himself asked. Wanting to be 'cleansed' for he hadn't been going to church much at all lately. He arrived, and it was okay. No one accused each other, it was all neutral. And regardless, it was going to stay that way. But... but then Francis, he..." She took a shaky breath, blinking rapidly as if to console herself.

"What did he do to you?" John asked, low and cold. Alex shivered.

"He-- well, he stopped by. Here, I mean. He wanted to talk to me. Said he needed to see a friend, things had been a little tough for him back at home ever since he got back from G-Geneva..." She tried to be cautious with her words, John noticed. Strangely calm, he urged Emmy to finish. "It wasn't bad. It was odd, seeing him after everything our families and especially you have gone through. I was polite, though I desperately wanted answers. Like, how could I talk to someone who hurt my brother figure? It didn't feel right. Nevertheless, I _did_ feel sorry for him. His parents... Well, they're fighting. He said he was losing his way, that he was confused and..."

"Yes?"

Emmy inhaled sharply. "You won't like the rest."

"I'm ready. Please, continue. I want the truth."

 **_You probably think that you are better now, better now_ **  
**_You only say that 'cause I'm not around, not around_ **  
**_You know I never meant to let you down, let you down_ **  
**_Woulda gave you anything, woulda gave you everything_ **

Emmy nodded, sitting up. Her eyes wandered aimlessly across the ceiling as she contemplated her next words. Clenching her fist, she whispered the final events. "He lost the act. He wasn't... nonchalant like I knew him as. He talked about you, how much he missed you and how much you two fought, that for some reason he couldn't forget you no matter how many drinks he had, or how many people he was seeing. He said his girlfriend didn't want him anymore, like how he didn't want to continue your relationship, and stuff. He looked-- genuinely upset, regretful. I couldn't tell you if it was you he was sorry for or just himself, though. But... if he was telling the truth..." Emmy bit her lip. "John, he still has _something_ for you."

Utter silence. John had a frozen look on his face, amazement, and fear. Hollowed out, like that final blow was all it took for him to rethink everything that happened, like the past was becoming unraveled inch by inch. Alex looked back and forth between the two, torn between furious and melancholy for their sake.

"I..." John swallowed. "...No, he said we were over."

"Laurens!" Alex cried sharply. "How much did he like you? What 'relationship'--"

"Alex, I'm sorry it's-- I don't know. It doesn't make any sense, I..." His voice broke. 

 **_Just gonna stand there and watch me burn_ **  
**_But that's alright, because I like the way it hurts_ **  
**_Just gonna stand there and hear me cry_ **  
**_But that's alright, because I love the way you lie_ **  
**_I love the way you lie_ **

Emmy looked close to tears, too. "He--he grabbed me," and suddenly the boys' attention was solely on her again. "He-- begged me to tell him there was still something, that he'd see you again... I just..."

"Martha," John said seriously, "did he hurt you? Or try to... do anything else I should be aware of? Because I _will_ pay him back."

Emmy shook her head. "No. He's lost. He needs-- a conclusion. Something to... lead him, whether it's helpful or ill. He needs to know the truth, too."

John nodded, stamina suddenly making him deliriously sure of himself. "He wants the truth? I'll _give_ him the truth. After all he's done... He's going to understand what it means to mess with me."

*

Stepping outside, it was obvious how livid John was. There was tension in his shoulders, a glare in his eyes. His silence said a lot more than words could've possibly conveyed at that moment, and Alex could see all the emotion was slowly building up. "Jacky, that's terrible... I... I don't know what to say."

Exhaling, John let his expression relax, though it was blank now. Devoid of anything. "Honestly, for a long time I've feared he'd-- he'd get into my head. Again." Biting his own lip sharply, he tasted blood. Part of knew that adrenaline-seeking part of him craved more of that injury, but his cold sense of calculation took the impulsive away. "Now he's not, but he's messing with my life still. I just-- I _wonder_." John smiled bitterly. "I wonder what happened to the person I saw back in Europe... so free, so calm, so sickeningly careless. He was an enigma to me, and that's why I wanted to know him. I was-- oddly attracted." His voice was now a whisper, waiting for the shame to sink in. "I'm sorry, Alex."

Alex frowned. "For what?"

John shrugged, pulling at his long curls. "It doesn't seem fair to you."

Alex now stood right next to John. "What, for loving someone?"

"I... don't know if it was love."

"Okay, so maybe for...wanting someone."

"Yes," John muttered earnestly, "I suppose that accurately sums it up."

"I can't blame you for that." Alex shook his head. "No one can. As God as your witness, no one can, John!" His words became more urgent. "Don't apologize to me about something _your_ heart decided. That's not fair to _you_."

John swallowed. "Part of me hates Francis. The other part hates _me_. Then I think, you know, I'm just confused. How did it work at first, then it turned into... all the drama that was forced on me? What the _hell_ were we thinking?"

"You were discovering the forbidden. It's in mankind's nature. It's natural. Perhaps we only regret what we _thought_ could have been. You miss the memories, not the person."

"But why him, Alex?" John's shaky voice questioned. "Why him? I don't love him."

 **_You thought you were standing beside me_ **  
**_You were only in my way_ **  
**_You're wrong if you think that I'll be just like you_ **

"You don't. And what you feel is valid, okay? It was a mistake. Now we're going to fix it-- or mend as much as we can. I got you, John. You're not alone. I, for one, will never _ever_ do what Francis did. He's a dick."

John snorted.

Grinning, Alex said: "I'm serious. Maybe he had different intentions and reasoning, I don't know. But I know that I can-- and _will_ , you hear me?-- treat you a lot better. It's in the past." Alex held John's hand. "And... I want to be your future."

John looked at Alex. The sunset made his ginger hair look burning red, his skin highlighting against the dark of the background. His eyes were fond, and vulnerable, and _God_ John loved that boy's heart, and all its hidden sweet intentions underneath his cold mask. The sun seemed to be yanking that facade away, showing the real Alexander. Full of spirit, youth, hope, passion. Even with all his sins, Alex was an angel.

"You are everything I could have wanted in Francis." Smiling playfully, John pushed back Alex's hair and whispered: "Everything, and _so much more_."

Wrapping thin arms around John's torso, Alex hummed. "I'm glad it's me...and not him. But, more importantly, I'm glad it's _you_ who is slowly getting closer to what your heart wants. That's a powerful thing, John. We're playing with fire, but I do believe there is a light side to this. Even if he has to look in the dark to find it."

John nodded. "If I'm going to burn..." He looked up at the sky. "It might as well be bright."

* * *

The pair had a humor interlude before meeting up with Francis. They both decided to have a few drinks-- regardless if it were to get them in trouble. That didn't seem to matter. It's not like they were planning on a whole drinking spree, right?

Emmy allowed John to borrow her car for the meet up: Right outside a Charleston bar. There were obvious things to consider with this. Pros: The said drinks. Cons: If things were to get out of hand, the police would likely get involved. _At least_ John and Alex had experience. Besides, it's not like it was their idea. Emmy had been updating Francis on John's return and response, and it was he who chose the location. There was much confusion about this, but arrangements stayed the same.

"So, uh..." Alex said, putting on the seatbelt. "Where exactly are you taking me?"

John smirked. "Well, you're in my hometown now. It would suck if that drama is your first impression." He started the car.

"Okay... but where are we going?" Alex grinned, nervous but increasingly excited.

"Nowhere and everywhere at once."

" _John_. I'm serious. Please tell me!"

"Patience, patience."

"Do not give me that smug look. John, pleeeaase?"

"You'll see!" John laughed.

He wasn't lying. There was no actual destination, but John was, in fact, driving him all over town, pointing out where he had grown up and visited as a child. Alex smiled, enjoying the view. It definitely wasn't Nevis. He was satisfied with this, John noted. _But it's not enough._

"However, there is one other part of our tour..." John smiled wickedly.

"I'm a little nervous..." Alex said, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, you should be." John picked up speed, traveling to a more rural area. "We used to do this shit for fun. We have a little name for it, down in the south-- hilling."

"'Hilling?'" Alex asked, looking around in vain. "Um, wait, so is this common, or dangerous, or--?"

"Not if you do it right."

Alex gaped. "Look, I don't know what's going on but this is Emmy's car--"

"I know!" John said cheerfully. Then, he took off down the road. There were specific parts that were highly elevated, making the drive feel much more like a rollercoaster than a simple stroll. To anyone not used to the ride, it was nervewracking and definitely gave you an adrenaline rush. "Woah!" Alex cried. "What are you doing? Is this legal!?"

"Er, probably not. But don't worry! It's the south. The police won't catch you."

Alex wasn't convinced, and held on tightly to the seat as he tried to contain his screams of glee. John tried very much not to picture the sounds in a totally different context, but Alex's face was too priceless. At this point, John was laughing uncontrollably, which made Alex laugh too. Eventually, Alex adjusted to the ride and began shouting things like "Whee!!" and "YAY, DO IT AGAIN!" which made John turn red and call him a child multiple times.

"What if I throw up?"

"Well, at least this is Emmy's car."

Thank goodness, Alex did not throw up. It was nice, not having to seriously worry about anything during the twenty minutes of nonsense. John almost forgot what that felt like: Just himself and Alex, being stupid boys crazy in love. Throughout the many days and months of knowing each other, they were wild together. Simple conversations, all those drinks, parties with friends, TV binges, touring through New York. It was magical, really, even if they were still broke college kids who still didn't have all the answers. They were _okay_ with being clueless, as long as they had the other. The journey was already rough, but John realized all over again how lucky he was, truly, to be living in such a way. He even fell in love all over again.

*

Of course, the ride had to end and the serious manner came back. They were so close to meeting Francis, and for John, it was a visit he was dreading since they first broke off from each other. The adrenaline faded, but John's heart race was still quick with anxiety and anticipation. The alcohol certainly didn't help.

After minutes of calming down, John went back to feeling blank. Perhaps that was for the best, for he didn't want to strike Francis as still hurt from everything. Or, at least, he didn't want Francis to _see_ him hurt. No, he never wanted Francis to see him as anything but cold, collected and obviously very happy without him. Happiness was there, but John wasn't stupid to believe he had changed in the emotional sense. He'd always been emotional. But Francis wouldn't know.

"I know how you feel," Alex suddenly whispered. "I used to let people get to me... Never again." 

John nodded, squeezing Alex's hand. He had someone on his side, at least. That was something Francis lacked. 

Alex briefly continued: "I was sensitive as a child. I had severe separation anxiety and everything. There was my stutter, my defensive tendencies... Look at me now, huh?" He chuckled. "I've turned bitter. The point is..." Alex looked up into John's timeless bright eyes. "It's not a weakness. It's a beautiful thing. When facing Francis, don't forget that."

So they waited outside as people came in and out of the Charleston bar. After a good forty minutes, John started to doubt if the coward was going to show up, but he did. Boy, was he not prepared for what he saw.

"Oh, wow," Alex muttered. "He _is_ tall. And--not what I was expecting."

Francis had ridden up in some orange Chevrolet that John definitely did not recognize. He got out of the car, and John bit his tongue from cursing loudly. Francis's previous red hair was tinted pink, with swirls of something that looked like blonde. It was cut shorter around the sides, the top curled. He wore his usual varsity jacket, except now John could see tattoos where the sleeves were pulled up. He wore jeans and some sneakers. Other than that, he was the same Francis. Slightly freckled, pale skin. The same confusing, analytic green eyes, except ten times more deep and tired.

 **_Told myself that you were right for me_ **  
**_But felt so lonely in your company_ **  
**_But that was love and it's an ache I still remember_ **

The scene differed greatly from the modest, silent teen he met in Geneva, with that white collared shirt and khaki pants. He didn't look special, but it was his expressions that caught John's attention. He seemed between amused and secretive frequently, not being exactly silent but only spoke when he needed to. But when he _did_ speak, he intimidated people. He made people embarrassed or infatuated-- depending on what he desired. He was subtly manipulating that way, though John only knew this through Francis's own confessions and that odd vibe he had when meeting strangers, vibes that let him read how people felt even when he didn't want to know. He wasn't psychic or anything-- he never knew the whole story-- but it was a single thread of realization that leads him with multiple theories each time.

For Francis, he noted him as a typical affluent Southern boy, but the very fluid nature of Francis caught him off guard, and Francis won at making John extremely intrigued. Their first personal interaction was Francis tapping John on the shoulder, prompting him to turn around. The boy simply smirked, mouthing Liberalism studies? as he pointed to his own letter of acceptance, conveying they had the same classes. John was never the same after that.

 **_You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness_ **  
**_Like resignation to the end, always the end_ **  
**_So when we found that we could not make sense_ **  
**_Well you said that we would still be friends_ **  
**_But I'll admit that I was glad it was over_ **

Back to the present, Francis smiled faintly in their direction, hands in his pockets. "So we've made it." His voice had a light Southern undertone, but it was almost completely hidden. He noticed Alex's glare, and his smile twitched as if he was considering to match the expression. "Is this a friend of yours?"

John smiled slowly. "This is Alexander. I met him when I moved to New York City. We've lived together ever since." 

Alex caught on to the shady demeanor John put on. "Indeed." He smiled as well, extra sly. "So, you're Franco? Franchie? Oh, what was it again?"

"Francis. Francis Kinloch." 

John smirked.

"Hmm." Alex narrowed his eyes, then eyed Francis up and down. "I've heard a few things about you."

Francis looked down, as if unprepared for potential questioning. "I see." He didn't seem particularly bothered, but apprehension could explain his brief, slow replies. It wasn't unusual for him to be formal, but certainly after all the mischief he'd been through with John there'd be more of that same youthful, reckless energy? 

While pondering this, John gave Alex a confused look, and Alex nodded his encouragement. Inhaling quickly, John said: "Well, I suppose since we all made it we might as well make this fast." He raised his chin defiantly, shoulders squared. "So, you're in town now, hmm?"

Francis turned a light pink color. John didn't know he had enough decency left to be flustered but nevertheless was pleased. "Yes," he admitted. "You know, after a while the whole Europe studying wasn't working out. Funny, because I went there in the first place just to get a break from Charleston." He blinked, recalling the memory. "Obviously, it was weird being back at home with my parents. They certainly didn't change." He chuckled nervously. "You remember Senior Francis and Anne?"

"Yes." They weren't exactly key players in John's memory, but in the past, Francis introduced John to them personally. They were simple, formal and polite. No wonder he had that facade when his parents wore it so well. No wonder he wanted to break free from such manners. John frowned inwardly, the puzzle making sense but still not fitting within his heart.

"Well... yeah. So I've been home." Francis nodded.

"And you decided to mess with Martha? Behind my back?" John shot out. It was a sudden change in mood as if any longer of Francis being overly calm or seeming more justified only caused irritation and the truth slipping farther away. The tea was certainly spilling. 

"John..." Francis rubbed his neck uncomfortably, wincing.

"No, cut the BS," John said bluntly. "I want to know what's up. Emmy had nothing to do with this and yet you thought it was a good idea to scare her half to death with your own problems? Really, you have some nerve. After all the shit you tried to pull on me before, you're at it again? _Are you_?"

 **_And I don't even need your love_ **  
**_But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough_ **  
**_No, you didn't have to stoop so low_ **  
**_Have your friends collect your records and then change your number_ **  
**_I guess that I don't need that though_ **  
**_Now you're just somebody that I used to know_ **

"No." Francis narrowed his eyes. "I'm not."

John waved off that response. "What was that about? Don't dance around your answers like you did before. You said you've changed? Prove it."

Francis exhaled slowly. "That was a mistake. Everything I've ever done was a mistake, okay? Does that make you satisfied?" He tilted his head. "Are you happy now to know you won?"

John clenched his jaw, remembering the unmistakable tone of regret Francis had when parting ways. He'd given John a chance to explore questions unanswered regarding his own feelings and behavior, let him in close enough to have a basic understanding of their connected but very different lifestyles and minds, just to shove him out and accuse John of being the complicated, manipulating one. The one who almost made Francis forget his upbringing of fragile social status and wealth. "So _you_ can admit defeat. And?"

 _**I been hurt, I seen the scar tissue** _  
_**If I showed you, would you run away?** _  
_**Do I gotta hide 'em for you to wanna stay?** _  
_**Do I, even need you? Should I leave you?** _  
_**Do I, gotta be you, just to please you?** _

Alex braced himself, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Look, I didn't mean to hurt Emmy. I just needed someone on my side, because God knows my family wouldn't get it. She's the only person in the whole Laurens-Manning alliance that doesn't hate me, or at least wouldn't openly display refusal."

"So, like me, you used her to get what you want?"

 **_I shout, I swear, I get angry, I get scared_ **  
**_I fall, I break, I mess up, I make mistakes_ **  
**_But if you can't take me at my worst_ **  
**_You don't deserve me at my best_ **

Biting his lip, Francis was obviously cornered. "I came to her because it was the only way to get to you."

"Why do you want to be in my life so bad?" John demanded. "You've caused enough damage. I'm not saying don't do your own personal shit, but _don't drag me into it_. I have good reason not to want you. Surely you can see the wrong you've done? How disgusting you treated me?"

_"John, you need to open your eyes. Do you know what our families think about this kind of love? About people like us?"_

_"What about chasing around each other like we do?"_

_"I don't understand..."_

_"I didn't expect you to."_

"I do see. That's why I'm here. I had to face you. I had to face..." He swallowed, drifting off.

"Go ahead," John prompted harshly. "Say it."

"Look, I'm not brave like you." Francis's tone dipped low, shaky as if anger was making itself to the surface.

"You say I'm brave and yet you paint me as a fool."

"How so?" 

John glared. "You think I could forget, and you think you can get away with it."

"Please, how could you know what I think?" Francis now crossed his arms, brow furrowing.

"I see right through you," John said matter-of-factly. "And I want _nothing_ to do with you. Apologize to Emmy, and what you do afterward is none of my business, but we're going to have real issues if you start messing with me again."

"You truly are stubborn," Francis muttered with a stronger tone. "I came to do the right thing, and yet self-righteous John wants to talk to me about morality."

_"Did I do something wrong?"_

_"No, John. You... Are always so good, so loyal."_

"I suppose it's something you can learn from." John's eyebrow twitched as his eyes remained on Francis's. The other blinked a few times, exhaling a long breath in exasperation. "Okay," he said calmly. "I'll apologize to Emmy."

" _And_ you'll leave me alone."

"John--"

"I don't _want you_."

 **_Those great whites, they have big teeth_ **  
**_Oh, they bite you_ **  
**_Thought you said that you would always be in love_ **  
**_But you're not in love no more_ **

"Not everything's about you, John!" Francis raised his voice.

"It is when you come here unannounced, fucking with my shit you should have left alone years ago when you were some pathetic European schoolboy in Geneva!" 

"I'm not the only with demons," Francis cried.

 _Demons_. They exist, said the church, they exist said any religious household who bothers making distinctions between the "good" and the "evil" so inevitably tied to humanity's history. They are found within any suffering, any tragedy to name. You see them within those you love when you no longer trust, and you find them lurking deep within yourself when doubt silences dreams of any future worth a damn to the conflicting forces of above. It's not _known_ or _fully explained_ , but you feel the aftermath of suffering, introspection and the tales that are supposed to clarify and justify such creations. If Heaven creates bliss, oh why do we have monsters buried within what we think is gold? Could be, following this logic, trust Heaven? 

 _**And I know that it's wrong** _  
_**That I can't move on** _  
_**But there's something about you...** _

_**Everything comes back to you** _

The mislead mimic and thus mislead as well. Ultimately, you end up having those of us lead by self-demise of the bitter cold or ones who burn everything with a reckless and untouchable fire. 

"No." John shook his head. "What the hell happened to you?"

There it is. Courage had asked the thought lingering for all too long.

Francis didn't reply. So John simply said, "Leave."

 **_You're always gonna fly away, just because you know you can_ **  
**_You're never gonna learn there's no such place as Neverland_ **  
**_You don't understand_ **  
**_You'll never grow up_ **  
**_You're never gonna be a man_ **

"I don't--"

"Leave."

It looked like Francis wanted to protest, but he complied. He didn't look back resentfully, either. He wordlessly turned around, got back into his car, and drove off. John's eyes followed the car until it was invisible. Something odd stirred inside him, and strangely he didn't identify it with guilt. It wasn't really rage anymore, though. Maybe it was guarded relief. Maybe it was the opposite, and he was anticipating a fire of _something_ to be released. But it was very much like the calm after the storm.

 **The sense of the world is short,—**  
**Long and various the report,—**  
**To love and be beloved;**  
**Men and gods have not outlearned it;**  
**And, how oft soe’er they’ve turned it,**  
**’Tis not to be improved.**

All was silent, and words no longer lingered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck Francis reminds me of Archie from Riverdale 
> 
> References:  
> "The fault is not in our stars..." Julius Caesar by Shakespeare  
> "...More things in heaven and earth than..." Hamlet by Shakespeare  
> "Born To Die" Lana Del Rey  
> "What About Us?" by P!nk  
> "Better Now" by Post Malone  
> "Love The Way You Lie" by Eminem ft. Rihanna  
> "Just Like You" 3DG  
> "Somebody That I Used To Know" by Gotye  
> "At My Best" MGK ft. Hailee Steinfield"  
> "Green Light" by Lorde  
> "This Town" by Nial Horan  
> "Peter Pan" by Kelsea Ballerini (more country jams for Southern boy Jacky)  
> "Eros" by Ralph Waldo Emerson  
> I was also tempted to add "Break Your Heart" by Taio Cruz
> 
> I estimated that chapter eleven will be posted by the end of this month, and chapter 12 sometime in January. Overall I /should/ be done with this by May 2019. I know that's awhile and I definitely didn't mean for this work to be so on-going but frankly it's good preparation for future novels and such that I may be writing. You never know.


	11. a broken heart / a piece of art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John reaches his conclusion, and suddenly the pressure that used to haunt him fades as his beliefs seem clearer. OR we do this, one last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's wrap this ish up, shall we?

Time seemed to slow after Francis's visit, and Alex highly noted John's sudden moodiness as their normal life tried to creep back in. Of course, Alex was a super loyal and understanding friend and, with his normal energy, picked John back up. But there were still times where John would remain silent, lost in thought. He'd mutter, "I can't believe this," and continue to frown. These occurrences were common and John frequently retreated outside to take a jog to burn off tension, but thankfully John had enough spirit in him to continue his rehearsals and studies. Simply put, his normal gleam had dulled yet he marched on like the warrior he was at heart.

 **_Lately I been, I been losing sleep_ **  
**_Dreaming about the things that we could be_ **

Alex was gentle enough with both tone and touch, figuring John's need for isolation was necessary for self-healing and process. He himself, with all his intelligence, didn't know how to grieve or mourn but he found himself cursing when they no longer shared coffee breaks.

Eliza and Maria tried to ask about it as well, but the two boys remained silent and shrugged off all concern. John could channel his energy into performance anyway so it's not like the two girls were suspicious.

Of course, life went on. Deep inside John knew he was procrastinating and distracting himself, even with his fits of vague introspection. The performance would be done, his studies would be perfected, he'd make sure he checked in with Alex, hit up Emmy, eventually Alex's debate finale would come... It was all planned. But a certain degree of uncertainty lingered in the air, and with much-needed rest John finally curled up in bed with a full bottle of whiskey he originally bought for Alex.

 **_But baby I been, I been prayin' hard_ **  
**_Said no more counting dollars_ **  
**_We'll be counting stars_ **

And Alex found him, passed out in their bed, and chuckled lightly to himself, though he worried for his dear friend still. "After a storm you'd still desire rain, hmm?" he whispered. Placing a blanket over John's resting body, Alex squeezed John's shoulders lightly. "You put _my_ fire out, at least. That's for sure. But honestly?" He pecked John's cheek. "I miss rain anyway."

Odd, how true the lonely statement was.

*

John didn't feel melancholy despite his inner confusion and aimless fighting. It was the night of the play, and he practically buzzed with excitement, rambling with Alex and holding his lover's hands to indicate his gratitude and joy for Alex's endless support. Sharing a brief kiss on the cheek backstage, he paid heed to Eliza and Maria's cue, and the performance began. His fellow comrades had his same energy, and though he wholeheartedly loved the thrill of every spotlight and cheer, he could satisfy himself knowing the hard work was done and they had reached their prize.

 **_The old, but I'm not that old_ **  
**_Young, but I'm not that bold_ **  
**_And I don't think the world is sold_ **  
**_I'm just doing what we're told_ **

The notes that hung over the audience, the dreamlike lighting and trance his friends were in... It felt like that night many years ago when Francis and himself attended an opera in Geneva, finally out on their own and drunk with adrenaline. They had watched that opera, shyly holding hands even though Francis boldly spoke up about his personal wishes and intentions as if it was a secret he had kept due to a death sentence that finally got repealed. He shared most of everything, yet John was still highly confused as his attention went back in forth between his object of affection and the performance, from silence to passionate vocal ranges and finally, to Francis's daring words that haunted John now.

"You know, we could run away," the naive young gentleman prompted. "We could forget this damned world, this society of knaves. You and I, we could free men. By ourselves, with the art of our cunning and forbidden desires. The past could fade to the invisible."

 **_I feel something so right_ **  
**_Doing the wrong thing_ **  
**_I feel something so wrong_ **  
**_But doing the right thing_ **

Closing his eyes, John felt that energy. That déjà vu soaking in like a cloud soaking up rain while the light was still trying to burst through and reveal its golden colors. Its many, beautiful colors. Yes, suddenly the crowd was invisible as John's solo note ended, and even amongst dozens, he knew that single note was alone from the rest.

 **_I could lie, could lie, could lie_ **  
**_Everything that kills me makes me feel alive_ **

*

John and Alex walked home that night, on foot. John had said he was much too fidgety to drive, or even be driven by a taxi. Alex was okay with this, though his tired self-made his stride weak and his commentary little, though he laughed and smiled with John all the same. "There's something magical with being on stage," John said absentmindedly, arm locked with Alex and grinning. He didn't mind the nip of the wind or the city sounds around him as if he was as free as the rural South. "I guess it's because I was never meant to be up there. My father's wants, my role in life... it was predetermined, and yet here I am, singing. And no one knows me, you know? They can't see me as a Senator's son, some affluent kid. No, I am a stranger to them. I love it. Something about that makes the beauty more apparent." John's eyes sparkled, and he gave Alex a look of endearment.

Alex's trembling, cold hands sought comfort in John's warmth. "I love when you're happy. You look at peace," the ginger said, laughing. "It's been so batshit lately, dude. I'm glad we can rely on each other."

John pulled Alex closer as his eyes focused ahead of them. "At the end of the day, I can be a rebel with you."

 **_Get out your guns, battles begun_ **  
**_Are you a saint, or a sinner?_ **  
**_If loves a fight, than I shall die_ **  
**_With my heart on a trigger_ **

"Ah," Alex teased. "So that is what you're planning?" He raised an eyebrow.

John hummed. "Perhaps." 

 **_They say before you start a war_ **  
**_You better know what you're fighting for_ **  
**_Well baby, you are all that I adore_ **  
**_If love is what you need, a soldier I will be..._ **

Maybe it was the specific energy and emotions stirring inside them, but finally after their hopeful eyes locked, they gravitated toward each other's wanted affection and kissed deeply on a New York City sidewalk, the darkness being lit by the many streetlights and neon signs placed at every corner. Their lips stung with the cold, but after rough contact found solace within each other, closeness bringing heat and repressed feelings conveyed as each intoxicating second passed. John cradled Alex's head gently as the latter clutched John's collar and waist, just so they could eventually switch positions, the only change being John's arms wrapped around Alex's middle, pulling the shorter one up. Alex opened his mouth willingly, awaiting John's tongue, which softly collided with Alex's in a bliss they'd been dreaming of, the only secrecy they had ever kept from the other.

 **_I'm an angel with a shotgun_ **  
**_Fighting til' the wars won_ **  
**_I don't care if heaven won't take me back_ **

After this kiss, they remained close and pressed for another, just so the touch could be savored. But this one was quick, and afterward was met with their mingled breath. Shocked and overwhelmed with love, they embraced, shivers from the cold and intimacy making anticipated words (or farther action) hard to find though they both would've easily admitted to everything right then and there.

The tension ceased as their love was visible, and they chuckled nervously and continued to hold hands as they walked home, rambling their feelings and repeating "I love you," so that they'd dream of the moment all over again until morning. 

 **_I'll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe_ **  
**_Don't you know you're everything I have?_ **  
**_And I wanna live, not just survive, tonight_ **

* * *

"But everything is alright?" Alex hissed into the phone. He'd snuck away from the debate meeting, standing in the nearest restroom, brows furrowed as his heart raced after such an interruption on Washington's behalf. Usually, he'd ignore phone calls and really any other unwanted distraction, but this one was important.

"Yes," Emmy said confidently. "Nothing is really strange, I'm just... Melanie doesn't know how... _troubled_ the Kinlochs truly are regarding her brother's case." There was a brief paused, and Alex could imagine the blonde pursing her lips in concentration. "It's just that, I myself am troubled."

"Are you okay?" Alex lowered his voice, not knowing how to express worry for someone he didn't know. However, her ties to John made the task slightly easier, though he knew there were no words of comfort entering his mind for the lady. 

"Oh, yes, Alexander. I feel better. I just feel as if there's still work we have to do on that Francis. It would feel wrong to just leave him, despite the web of events we find ourselves in. Not to rush, of course."

"Of course."

"I don't really have a solution, Alex. I don't want to concern John either, but... This may be a battle he simply has to conclude. I don't want him to run from himself anymore." Alex was about to say something quite eloquent for Emmy's reassurance, but in his hesitant stance Emmy continued: "Well, at least he's in good hands."

"You think so?"

 **_'Cause baby you look happier, you do_ **  
**_My friends told me one day I'll feel it too_ **

"Truly." There was a soft determinism in her voice. "Y'all make a good team. There's no doubt in my mind you make him happy."

Alex blushed. "Thank you. I must go. But I shall keep our conversation in mind."

"You are a good man, Alex."

He chuckled. "Perhaps. Goodbye, Martha."

"Bye."

 **_And until then I'll smile to hide the truth_ **  
**_But I know I was happier with you_ **

Alex hung up the phone. Taking a deep breath, he cursed Francis but thought at least the troublemaker made John single, and thus was Alexander's for the keeping. That was the highlight, but what for the conclusion? Emmy was right, the battle needed to be fair and done with or else dear John would let it ponder in his mind forever like the rest of his ghosts, not taking necessary actions and instead of feeding his restless heart with temporarily-thrilling solutions. Not that he was constantly reminding himself, but his full, easily guilty heart wouldn't free itself so quickly on the memories of...whatever the two had.

 _What they had._ That had an effect on Alex, making his own blood simmer. With pain, there was an influence, but regardless the affection before the pain was hidden to Alexander's experience. That's what made it frightening.

 **_Sat on the corner of the room_ **  
**_Everything's reminding me of you_ **  
**_Nursing an empty bottle and telling myself you're happier_ **  
**_Aren't you?_ **

_Fear not_ , he reminded himself. He had the energy and means to assist John, and he knew John was more ready for the challenge than ever before. Introspection did stop for a while with both of them, and the new adventure they explored definitely was the standing of their confusing, lovely, passionate relationship. Oh yes, one kiss triggered everything that was yet to come, endless more kisses and sweet promises to fulfill, oh God they were as lucky as ever.

Snapping himself out of the fantasy, Alex yanked on his jacket and continued to the meeting. He hoped his motives of leaving so quickly could be ignored, lest everyone found out about his new actions with his long-term best friend since forever. 

 **_But if it breaks your heart like lovers do_ **  
**_Just know that I'll be waiting here for you_ **

*

Arriving home, Alex felt peace after the choppy meeting. Angelica had asked if anything was wrong, Alex's explanation being the pressure of the finale being so close and, of course, personal relations. He waved off her concern, saying nothing was stressful, just high in standards.

"Don't those come in a pair, captain?" she teased.

Alex rolled his eyes. "More than anything, it's the structure. Look at us, we're all tense."

"And do you suppose a solution?" asked Thomas moodily.

Alex smirked. "Yes. Share your proposal in the third section."

"That's not a fair request," Thomas said, eyes widening. "We haven't even reached--"

"But you have the means to answer properly, yes?"

Thomas didn't like backing down, so he sighed and forced a charismatic smile as he half-heartedly glared at the rest of the members. Peggy's humorous laugh caused the chain reaction of the whole group's fun, and with refreshed motivations, everyone remained productive as more plans were made and details became clear. Even research was looking up, the only thing being needed was Madison's highly organized mind to help navigate individual sources.

Alex explained all of this when he got home, flopping down on the couch next to John and letting his friend untie his pinned-up hair. He himself leaned into the much-wanted touch and found no shame finding his hands up John's shirt, down his lower back then his shoulders, as John simply hummed his thanks as he gently kissed Alex's jawline like the angel he was.

They were actually quite timid, or else they'd be in completely more bold positions by now. The timidness had origins in John's previous self-denial and anxiety over his family's expectations, so though John was extremely open to Alex he still reacted as if part of him was half-expecting his father to burst at any moment to catch them in the act of intimacy. Still, they were happy. 

"How do you feel?" asked Alex, hand on John's knee.

John smiled. "Better. But--honestly, that's an understatement." He gazed at Alex. "You're the best gift ever," he continued with a blush. Alex smiled broadly. "I just hope I take full advantage of that... and not let anything preoccupy me."

"You feel there is something now?" Alex embraced John's torso.

Humming in response and hugging Alex, John said: "Honestly? Yes. But, regardless, I want you." His minty breath tickled Alex's neck.

Alex sighed dreamily and climbed into John's lap. " _Regardless_ , you have me. I love you."

"I love you too, Alexander." John's hand ran across Alex's back.

"I think it's been a while since you've said my full name," Alex teased, hand on John's neck.

"Fuck!" John suddenly exclaimed. "I didn't make this official." At first, Alex was confused, but then John said: "Alexander Hamilton, I love you, and if I could I'd have you kiss me every single day like what you did after the performance." Blushing still, John looked determined. "I want you in my future, just the two of us, alongside each other like always. I hope I can provide the best life for you because you deserve it. You'll always be my best friend." To make it even more official, John kissed the top of Alex's head as he remained cradling him.

Biting his lip, Alex turned red. "I'm-- damn, you are the only person that does this to me." He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to recover as John laughed sweetly. "I--love you too, John Laurens. For now and always. I always have. I only promise kisses if you kiss me back, however."

"Idiot," John half-heartedly scolded. "Of course."

They shared a deep but brief kiss, closing the space between them as much as possible. Embracing afterward, John had one last major thing to say. "In fact," he whispered to Alex, "our love inspires me to fix everything."

"Oh?" Alex asks with a confused smile.

"I'm not going to be preoccupied. Life is too short for that shit and the only thing I want to worry about is when we'll kiss again, because surely that can't come soon enough." (Alex blushed on cue, this time smirking and mumbling "Jacky, you sap.") "I'm going to take care of this South Carolina business once and for all." His genuinely gleamed, a vision of the future clearly in his mind.

"I believe in you." Alex kissed his cheek. "We have time." 

* * *

John considered drinking the flask Alex had left already. With his hands still gripped to the steering wheel, he took a deep breath and viewed the New York church he found himself outside of. It wasn't anything as grand as South Carolina's colonial-styled sites with the emerald fields that surrounded them, but it was adequate. Dull in color, but at least the shroud of flowers around the entrance was welcoming. John straightened his tie and ignored the looks strangers gave him. This wasn't a church he frequently visited, and so no one recognized him. That, however, was all according to plan.

 **_Take me to church_ **  
**_I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies_ **  
**_I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife_ **  
**_Offer me that deathless death_ **  
**_Good God, let me give you my life_ **

Deciding against the liquor, John sipped some tea and texted Emmy that it was close to his conclusion. In return, she gave her best wishes. Alexander did as well. Originally, he was going to pair with John in this new meeting but there was still the risk of Alex's quick temper and general distracting presence, so now he was on the sideline. John was solo, and though he shook with tension it was more eagerness than anxiety. Frankly, he was ready for the potential mess of the evening.

Getting out of the car, John smoothed his jacket and walked in, giving friendly smiles to the common attendees. Many greeted him back, shaking his hand and warmly telling of their experience. Half-distracted, John glanced around the room to see if his subject had arrived. No trace of the redhead-- _wait, he's not a redhead anymore._ But there was no sign of unnatural hair palettes either. Francis was still on his way.

"So, what brings you here?" an older man asked, wrinkles around his smile and glasses.

"Oh, a friend recommended me here." Not completely a lie, Eliza knows a few convenient people. "I have my own church back in my hometown. But, of course, I've moved so I need somewhere else to... to worship the good Lord." John nodded to himself. "In fact, my friend is arriving soon. I'll be with him."

"Excellent!" He sipped some water. "And say, where's your hometown?"

John blushed slightly. These were all born-and-raised city folk. He was almost embarrassed. "Well...South Carolina. Charleston, specifically."

"That is quite a drastic change!" The man chuckled. "Well, make yourself at home. I'll check up on you later, if you'd like."

"Thank you, sir."

"You don't really have a Southern accent, now."

"Ha, no, barely. I learned to restrain it... most of the time." John shrugged. He made a little more small talk before he saw the little brown door of the church open, and turning his focus to that area, his heart leaped when he saw Francis Kinloch once again. Saying his apologies to the madam who was quite obviously flirting with him, he excused himself and met Francis's questioning look. Nodding calmly, Francis was prompted to come closer. It's okay, John thought. It's okay. He was addressing both himself and Francis, suddenly feeling a mix of guilt, suppressed anger and bitterness, but a spark of determination. 

 **_Well, you almost had me fooled_ **  
**_Told me that I was nothing without you_ **  
**_Oh, but after everything you've done_ **  
**_I can thank you for how strong I have become_ **

Francis kept his distance. Thank goodness he was dressed appropriately, with a white suit and blue tie that brought out the colors of his hair and eyes. His expression now was in full clarity; John no longer identified the young man's amusement, or tiredness, or deception. There was only the earnest, unmistakable look of a man who knew his flaws and knew he was caught, and no longer feared the punishment but he himself had no clue as to what his fellow ghost would now say. Gently reaching out to Francis, John began with a soft "Hey..." but the public meeting inside had just begun and the two needed to find seats. 

*

Throughout the whole time, the tension was between the two men as they sat next to each other and participated side-by-side in prayers and the rest of the group's exclaims of "Amen!" and "That's right!" and other shouts of praise. They were both now aware of the common ground they held, basically like a type of misfits in a room of people so sure of their faith and future. Against odds, against pressure, they shared the emotion that controlled their life: fear. _It's always been fear_ , John thought. A new epiphany seemed to be unraveled. Francis's eyes were usually so intriguing, but they always held fear. And resentment. And self-confusion. Thus, John was confused, and they trapped themselves in their own conundrum, blaming the other as they loathe themselves. 

It was always fear. Deception. The killers of Love.

 **_'Cause you brought the flames and you put me through hell_ **  
**_I had to learn how to fight for myself_ **  
**_And we both know all the truth I could tell_ **  
**_I'll just say this is "I wish you farewell"_ **

Francis fidgeted constantly, barely making eye contact with anyone. He nodded, sometimes clenched his jaw, sometimes tap his hand on the chair. But not a word left his mouth. He must have believed the unspoken damage was done, that perhaps it was a mistake coming to a place that paralleled too closely to what Francis already had to deal with. John tried to remember the plan, remember the end game, but all that was in his mind was the remembrance of young Francis, so damn naive and egoistic and _complicated_. So fragile but always willing to claw his way to the top. If he felt remorse, he never showed it. But regardless, he was a changed man. John now had to find out in _which areas_ he had changed.

 **_Ah sometimes, I pray for you at night, oh_ **  
**_Someday, maybe you'll see the light_ **  
**_Whoa oh oh oh, some say, in life, you're gonna get what you give_ **  
**_But some things only God can forgive_ **

Confrontation only happened when there was a freestyle confession interlude, in which people were allowed to pray with relatives and friends if there was something bothering them. This was the perfect opportunity for their confession, and so it started.

"First," John said smoothly, "I want to thank you for coming. However I may feel by the end of tonight, I shall recognize being here takes balls of steel."

Francis's lips upturned slightly, hiding his amusement. "I would say the same for yourself. I must admit, I am lost on my part."

 **_I hope you're somewhere prayin', prayin'_ **  
**_I hope your soul is changin', changin'_ **  
**_I hope you find your peace_ **  
**_Falling on your knees, prayin'_ **

"Don't worry. I expected you to be." There was no real sting to his words, in fact, he tilted his head teasingly. This was a truce enough, for Francis seemed to visibly relax instead of taking any offense. "So you've matured a little," John noted.

"Perhaps." Francis looked down, deep in thought. "John, I do believe this is killing me." His slight smile faded. "Everything's a blur. It's always been. At this point... I don't know who I'm trying to please. My parents? You? Me?"

John pursed his lips. "It can be tricky, figuring shit like this out. I myself... I'm confused."

Francis laughed harshly. "You?"

John scoffed. "Why, yes," he said, exasperated. "Look, this place has never felt more foreign. You have never felt so foreign."

Nodding, Francis seemed to support that idea too. "True. But, John... do you really think this'll solve anything?"

"Yes."

Biting his lip, Francis said: "How come? I do not know what to say. I do not know who I am, or what I'm doing. Frankly, I don't know how to feel about you."

"Let's start there, then," John started. "Are you pissed off at me?"

"Not particularly."

"Odd."

Francis shrugged. "I have the world to be pissed off at. You're a downgrade, to say the least."

"I like that answer."

"Don't flatter yourself," Francis teased.

 **_Why you gotta show up lookin so good just to hurt me?_ **  
**_Why you wanna stop this whole damn world from turning?_ **

"So, are you scared of me?"

"Sort of."

"Good."

"Ha!"

John smirked. "But, perhaps the more important question... Do you love me?"

There was a pause. Seeing Francis's indecisive expression, John said, "Take your time."

"I-- can't answer that."

 **_So if you're gonna break my heart, just break it_ **  
**_And if you're gonna take your shot, then take it_ **  
**_Take it!_ **

"How come?" John raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know the answer."

"But you care?"

"Of course," he said bluntly.

How strange. "You care about me, yet you don't know if you love me?"

"Please don't accuse me."

 **_If you made up your mind, then make it_ **  
**_Make this fast_ **  
**_If you ever loved me..._ **  
**_Have mercy..._ **

John shook his head quickly. "No, no, I'm not accusing you. There's nothing to accuse now, I'm putting that behind me. The thing is... I completely understand."

"Yes?"

John sighed. He gestured for Francis to take a seat. 

"You remember our time in Geneva," John began.

"Yes." Francis looked slightly uneasy.

"Well, do you recall our first interactions?"

"John, I do not think I could forget," the other replied earnestly.

Meeting Francis’s eyes, John said seriously: "I do not know if this was ever in your awareness, but I was curious to meet you. I wanted to and felt the need to. There was always some countenance of mystery you held, and if you learned anything about me, I’m stubborn as hell and wanted to know what’s up." Lowering his head, John continued: "Thus you became an experiment. One that I don’t like to admit helped me have a clearer version of our problems, our role in society. But it also brought me great pain."

There was a pause. Francis grabbed at his own wrist, frowning in concentration. Finally, he spoke. "Because I was cold. Confusing."

"Precisely."

After another pause, Francis said, "I suppose you want an explanation."

John laughed with no humor. "Yes, after years that would give me peace of mind."

Francis nodded his understanding. "I’ll try. It’s the least I can do." His eyes glazed as he became lost in thought. "In Geneva, I was finally free from my parent’s pressure. That much we can agree on." He smiled slightly, but his eyes were still sad. He shrugged listlessly. "I could be another person where no one knew me. I didn’t have to fit a specific label, I could choose my own image. So I did. I thought that if I could be charismatic, people would like me, and I wouldn’t be questioned. Of course, you proved me wrong. I saw you were, at the very least, wondering about me. I took that as an advantage."

 **_No one can rewrite the stars_ **  
**_How can you say you'll be mine?_ **  
**_Everything keeps us apart_ **  
**_And I'm not the one you were meant to find_ **

"What kind of advantage?"

"Honestly? To be seen as a superior."

"And that is what your parents taught you?"

"It sure feels that way."

John nodded slowly. It made sense, and because it directly came from Francis’s own mouth, it made all the difference. "You thought, Hey, if this kid is on my side, perhaps I can trick the others as well."

"Yes."

"In the name of favor?"

"Exactly."

"And how come you did not question that I was the one to bring you to power?"

Francis chuckled. "Dear John, if you want recognition so bad, any means will do. But, to be fair, I was curious about you, too. We had met before our European studies."

 **_It's not up to you_ **  
**_It's not up to me_ **  
**_When everyone tells us what we can be_ **  
**_How can we rewrite the stars?_ **  
**_Say that the world can be ours_ **  
**_Tonight_ **

"True."

"Well, it was the perfect mixture. A stranger that would satisfy my pride, but someone I knew well enough by authorities to get close to. It makes sense."

"Yes…" John sighed. "It does."

Francis shifted in his seat, trying to compose the little confession he had left. "Though somewhat reasonable in explanation, my faults, I now know, are not to be excused."

"I am still in question about how strangely calm you are."

"I told you, I have already wasted my passions in argument."

"Still, it’s funny how some things change a person for good."

"Agreed. And what about you?"

 **_All alone,_ **  
**_Smoking his last cigarette_ **  
**_I said where you been?_ **  
**_He said, ask anything_ **

Furrowing his eyebrows, John asked: "What about me?" 

"Surely this experience has changed you." Francis titled his head. "Besides the pain, was there anything else you can tell me that may ease my own mind?"

"First, apologize. One last time."

"John, I sincerely regret my youthful decisions. I am flawed and, thanks to you, I am coming to terms with it."

"Thank you. I'm sorry too."

"But, John!" Francis exclaimed. "I've told you once already you have done nothing wrong."

"I wanted you."

"You were tempted."

"Still, it does nothing to bring our enemies down. We might just realize we were fighting the wrong person."

Francis smiled. "Yes, it is society we are to blame."

"And ourselves. _Definitely_ ourselves. But, as you have asked, what else have I learned?"

"Yes."

"Well, all that I have just said. And that I am strong, and that _you_ , my old friend, can be strong too. You have wronged yourself and others, and part of me will always be bitter. But it's no use. Don't dwell on pain; then all you become is what you're dwelling on."

 **_Where were you_ **  
**_When everything was falling apart?_ **  
**_All my days_ **  
**_Spent by the telephone_ **  
**_That never rang_ **  
**_And all I needed was a call_ **  
**_That never came_ **

"Very wise," Francis hummed. "I am still a coward, you see."

"That's no excuse," John said firmly. "You're to learn to forgive and forget as I have. Then, you should find the purpose of your life we've been both avoiding."

"What shall that be?" Francis narrowed his eyes.

"I cannot decide for you."

 **_Lost and insecure_ **  
**_You found me, you found me_ **  
**_Lying on the floor_ **  
**_Surrounded, surrounded_ **

"But I need help."

"Of course. I'm assuming you find no pleasure in your studies? That is why you have dropped out?"

Francis gaped. "How-"

"I don't mean to be peeking in your business," John said apologetically. "But Emmy told me. She thought it was useful to know."

"I hope she has recovered from my temper." Francis looked embarrassed.

"Yes, she is actually worried about you."

"The lady!" Francis cried. "Martha has always been too good for me. Same as you. I suppose that's why you two are such a deal."

John rolled his eyes half-heartedly. "But you say you have no real interests now?"

"Don't get me wrong, political theory still interests me. I just have no intentions to go to law school or anything, however."

"And what about music?"

 **_Why'd you have to wait?_ **  
**_Where were you, where were you?_ **  
**_Just a little late_ **  
**_You found me, you found me_ **

Francis faltered. "You and I both know I was more of a listener than one who practices."

"If art is what you love, don't hold back," John insisted. "I myself do art on the side. I learned that it's never too late to strive for something you truly have sights on."

"Even...even if it's family?"

 **_In the end_ **  
**_Everyone ends up alone_ **  
**_Losing her_ **  
**_The only one who's ever known_ **

John's shoulders slumped. The question hit hard. Despite Francis's loathing, he still wanted a family. A real one, and he wanted to be loved. Attention-seeking had always been his goal, but he missed the intimacy. No wonder he was always so cold in friendships! Biting his lip, John considered the matter. After reasonable thought, he instead asked: "First, I want to dig into this art topic. Are you genuinely wanting to try our music?"

"Yes, if it's what you suggest."

"Good. Tell me, what do you consider art?"

Francis looked taken aback, but he answered. "I do believe it is anything that inspires the human spirit. It can be physical, spiritual, visible or not, but it stirs your emotion and creative side."

"Yes. And what do you think its relation to beauty is?"

Though he looked confused, Francis followed this line of thinking. "Well, beauty is how we may describe this art, whatever it may be. It's more on how we feel about feeling itself."

"To elaborate, art is about who has produced it, ultimately. Beauty depends on who's looking. Now, I'm sure your parents might not like it if you strived just for some liberal arts degree?"

Francis laughed. "They'd say it is absolutely useless."

 **_Who I am, who I'm not, and who I wanna be_ **  
**_No way to know_ **  
**_How long she will be next to me_ **

"Exactly! It is an art, and they do not see its beauty. But you can learn to see it if you have the right mindset. They need to see that if you decide what you want your blank canvas to be, _and_ you're successful, they may learn as well."

"I follow."

"There is an art to everything we do. It is up to us to decide the beauty. But we must know there is creation in _all_ of us to do something beautiful. Francis, you have been the focus of my intrigue for years and there was beauty in that. Beauty in simply being an enigma, of being the complex person you are. There's an art for mastering that mask as well, you must know. But why be a puppet on society's string when you can be your own creative master? You are already a unique work. Don't throw it away to please others, or to forget yourself. You're all about fire, hmm? Well, my specialty is ice. You must find balance. You have it now, the question is, what are you going to do with it?"

As if John had read his very soul, Francis's eyes were wide. He seemed absolutely transfixed with John. "I-- don't know how to thank you."

 **_Lost and insecure_ **  
**_You found me, you found me_ **  
**_Lying on the floor_ **  
**_Surrounded, surrounded …_ **

"This is enough." John slowly smiled. "By the look on your face, all is clearer?"

"Indeed! Of course, I do believe it's obvious, and yet it helped to hear that lesson put in the way you've said it. I am surprised you care at all."

John shrugged. "Love is a strange thing."

"I don't know how you're so brave."

"It's the only choice I have left, my friend. There is still much to learn."

"Agreed. Truce?" Francis held out his hand.

John took it. "You're already forgiven. Now, being forgiven by the possible Creator Himself is a different story, but that is a battle for another day that we may confide in each other. Speaking of which..." He pulled out a single note. "I think it's best if you and Emmy talk through the incident. She has helped me for so long, I can only imagine what she can do for you."

"Thank you. I'll take care of her this time."

"I'm sure you will. You love her, don't you?"

Francis blushed. "I do. She and Melanie... they mean the world to me. And speaking of Melanie... I have a lot to make up for. I have not been the best brother."

"Neither have I. Just... don't do what I've done. Be there for her."

"I will." 

"Someone once told me 'Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships,' and I definitely feel it is worth noting."

"Yes."

"Come, let's pray together before I leave. We need it." 

 **_No masters or kings when the ritual begins_ **  
**_There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin_ **  
**_In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene_ **  
**_Only then I am human_ **  
**_Only then I am clean_ **  
**_Amen, Amen, Amen_ **

"Yes, and I admit, I still have one last confession."

John eyed Francis. His earnest green eyes, his pale clothing, his edgy pink hair. He truly was a developed person. "Do tell," John said gently. "Then we can ask for advice together."

"I suppose I should tell you exactly why I came back to Charleston."

Satisfied with this, Francis told his story. John listened, open-minded. By the end, he was ready to wholeheartedly help. 

**_How do we rewrite the stars?_ **

* * *

It was a cloudy Saturday evening, with the sun already lowering in the calm sky. John owed Alex in explanation-- but also one for Eliza and Maria as well. The four of them sat outside Eliza's comfortable garden, sitting with an old black table and sipping hot coffee as John told his tale. Alex, Eliza, and Maria listened with great interest, sometimes interrupting to ask questions or provide small commentary. It was revealed that Francis had originally come from Charleston after problems he had faced in a local bar. Apparently, he flirted with the wrong person and even blurted it out his relationship with John, and appalled by himself he looked for a type of redemption. He was confused, a mess, a drinker, and wanted solace.

By the end of the explanation, Eliza hummed. "You two have gone through too much for the past two months, honestly. I implore you all to simply take a much-needed break from this nonsense."

"And yet," Maria added, "we are glad you helped him and have been making individual progress."

"Oh, yes," Eliza agreed, smiling at the boys.

Alex whistled. "Jacky and I are truly restless, what can I say?" He smirked, and Maria rolled her eyes.

"Childish fools!" she scolded with no real bitterness. "I'll say, it's not even graduation and it feels as if we all have some trouble finding ourselves."

"That's life," John said simply. "I appreciate it. You learn a lot in such times." They all grew silent, lost in thought as the coolness of the air settled. It was a lovely day, and after chaos and plenty of coffee, they could earnestly see the worth of all the emotional work exerted. 

"There's a lot to learn," Maria said suddenly. She sighed. "But, yes, at the end of the day we must be thankful for the life we've lead."

"What a lot of philosophers we have today," Alex teased.

"And much more doctrines to cover!" Maria exclaimed. "Would you all like my little spin on this?"

"I would love your relationship wisdom," John answered.

She nodded. "Good answer." Shifting themselves to get comfortable once more, Maria said: "Well, John's case strikes interest in me. I am no stranger to foolish lovers or backstabbing cowards, and yet I dare say John's method of handling it definitely had a more positive outcome. We share that stubborn instinct, only to self-introspect in the end. Yet you decided to teach the person that done you wrong how to accept himself again and figured out the mystery that haunted you. I follow you correctly?"

"Amazingly so," John said, eyeing Alex with a smile.

"Well, that's true bravery. After being abused you ultimately turned the dwelling from negativity to lessons you thought were half-forgotten. I applaud you."

"Thank you. Honestly, if it weren't for you I probably wouldn't have been able to see the quick outcome to easily. As in, _this_ outcome: the reflection. I am sure you didn't just start this conversation to flatter me." His eyes sparkled, and Maria's eyebrows quirked up as her lips did the same. "Offer me a conclusion, anything you suppose I do now that everything seems to be solved."

"At this point, the ending is up to you. But you did good." She beamed, a softness in her eyes. "Beyond good, John. Bless your righteous soul. You have given Francis another chance, and if I ever were to judge a sinner I'd say he won't let Melanie or Emmy down the way he did to you. Satisfy yourself with the knowledge that you single-handedly brought people together. And now you have Alexander, and the rest of your life at least a little less afraid."

"You're a survivor too, Maria Lewis," Alex spoke up, grabbing John's hand and then hers. "I don't know the pain you spoke of but we recognize your heart as well."

Eliza clapped. "I love you all! I agree with what Maria has said, and _you_ , my dear, you're lovely to be assistance to these boys."

Maria blushed. "The least I can do." She brushed the curly red hair out of her face and adjusted her white sleeves. "You know if I could, I'd beat Time's ass and let you all have a quicker reward."

"We don't need it to be fast, Maria, but thanks." Alex stopped holding Maria's hand but kicked her gently in the ankle playfully.

"You jest, but I have a few words of advice for you as well." Maria grinned.

Dumbfounded, Alex looked almost nervous. "Yes?"

"Come, it is a private matter. You can share with John later. That okay?" She said the last part to Eliza and John, who nodded and wished Alex luck.

When the two vanished, Eliza turned to John. "You're in good hands."

"I know." John smiled. "Eliza, you taught me the importance of music, family, and kindness after it took a while to recognize my passions in such a dark place. Maria has taught me about identity, self-love and fighting back. I can't thank you guys enough for that."

"Of course!" Eliza blushed slightly.

"You're a fighter too."

Eliza nodded. "Yes. So was Beth." _Her sister_.

"I don't doubt it. But when in doubt, know we're all together." There was a comfortable silence. John didn't know what else to say, but he decided not to overdo the conversation. They'd be okay. 

*

Alex followed Maria off to the front porch. No one else was home, so they wouldn't have been questioned. 

"It's been a while since we've had one-on-one, hmm, Miss Lewis? Miss me?"

"Don't flatter yourself." Maria smiled. "I have a lot more of real words to share with you than John. Not to say I wasn't wholeheartedly sincere with him, it's just that his case is now solved. I am here to caution you of your own future trials."

Alex frowned. "I don't recall doing anything wrong."

 **_But you went away_ **  
**_How dare you? I miss you_ **  
**_They say I'll be OK_ **  
**_But I'm not going to ever get over you_ **

"No, no, I am not accusing you, Alexander. I just..." She took a deep breath. "You have more responsibility, Alex. You have John, the debate finale, your future career... I don't mean to lecture you, or to sound like I know what's going to happen."

"I understand."

"It's just, as your friend I want to make sure you're aware that... Well, John's faced his past. I predict that, with your ambitious tendencies that aren't going away soon and conflicting image of others, you'll need to learn a few lessons too."

Alex nodded slowly. "I mean..." He chuckled. "It's always been a struggle for me. Even when I made it to New York. I wasn't _expecting_ that to change."

"You realize your accomplishments here but when you think, Alex, of your future, your legacy, and _seldom_ your past, you see that my warning isn't just a fabrication?"

 **_It really sinks in, you know_ **  
**_When I see it in stone_ **

Alex hesitated. He didn't want to admit such a flaw. "I do," he said softly but defensively, ready to argue that his state of being was stable. 

Seemingly sensing this, Maria held up her palm. "I'm not here for a confession. Just to point it out." Her tone softened. "Alex, you mean everything to John. And you have a family. I want you to see that. And regardless of what happens, you _have_ made it. You and Francis... well, there are similarities. Be aware that it's quite easy to be the coward; it will always be harder to live and be victorious, the hopeful hero."

"I agree." Alex had a hard time accepting Maria's love for him, and it that moment he realized. They were almost too much alike, too familiar, and it was scary. It was easier when they argued, as opposed to their current teamwork. At least Alex knew what they were, how their next interaction would be. It wasn't so clear now, and yet it was obvious Maria was looking out for him. As for what she said... Of _course_ Alex knew his flaws. Of course they'd be his downfall. The thought didn't stop his impatience, his self-oriented ideas, his work ethic. The fall of Icarus was obvious yet the determinism of the character himself didn't prevent the tragedy!

**_By now I should be used to the cold..._ **

"Not to mention your problem with authority," Maria said, breaking the tension.

Alex laughed. "Oh, I'll get you for that."

Pausing, Maria broke character and hugged Alex. Shocked, it took a moment for Alex to properly respond, but he did.

"You're one heck of a legacy, you bastard." 

Alex thought he had heard a similar saying before, but before he could respond in thanks or irritation, she waved and walked away. Like a ghost. One with the brightest, puffiest red dress he'd ever seen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources/Notes:  
> https://www.marxists.org/reference/archive/spirkin/works/dialectical-materialism/ch01-s05.html AND https://philosophynow.org/issues/108/What_is_Art_and_or_What_is_Beauty <\-- for the discussion John and Francis had. I highly enjoyed the points that were made. For extra reading: https://www.iep.utm.edu/love/ What is Love?
> 
> I can't wait for the next chapter! Let's just say you're in for a plot twist ;) As in, we get the subplot no one asked for. Foreshadowing is obvious at the end but if you catch the main themes regarding Maria it'll be more interesting...
> 
> References:  
> "Counting Stars" (FINALLY)  
> "Angel With a Shotgun" (FINALLY)  
> "Happier"  
> "Take Me to Church" (hell yeah)  
> "Praying"  
> "Mercy" (Brett Young, not Shawn)  
> "Rewrite the Stars"  
> "You Found Me" (sobs)  
> "Over You"


	12. Rachel's Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self-righteous, stubborn, selfish... Rachel Faucette was all of these things.
> 
> Here's the subplot no one asked for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and there we were all in one place  
> A generation lost in space  
> With no time left to start again...  
> I went down to the sacred store  
> Where I'd heard the music years before  
> But the man there said the music wouldn't play  
> And in the streets the children screamed  
> The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed  
> But not a word was spoken  
> The church bells all were broken...  
> The day the music died.

Rachel Faucette was self-righteous, to say the least. Born and raised on the small St. Croix island, supposedly a proud Christian, and locally educated on core standards and the diverse mix of people's heritage and mocko jumbies, it could be argued she was well off. Or, rather, that is how her mother viewed it. Rachel herself would've protested that all the churches and festivals in the world couldn't fix the wreck they've found themselves in, or her somewhat "snobbishly prudent nature."

But that had never stopped her before.

The wedding was bad enough, on top of the family's financial crisis. As soon as Delphine Anya Buck announced the arranged marriage, Rachel threatened to rip the perfect white dress her mother had bought her with the very little money they had left, and even went so far as to hang it out the window, cursing that the waves of the Caribbean would have it before she would. It was selfish, she reflected later, how cruelly it would have been for money to be such a waste. But perhaps, despite that Rachel valued money, that was the point-- an act of artistic revenge, to get away from society's desire for riches.

Whatever, Rachel insisted. Someone must make the sacrifices.

 **_Perfect by nature_ **  
**_Icons of self indulgence_ **  
**_Just what we all need_ **  
**_More lies about a world that..._ **

Never would she thought she'd be wearing another dress so soon, with an even more sinister intent behind the mask. Glancing at herself in the dusty mirror, Rachel's skin appeared porcelain, not that almost golden tint it usually had. She was never a vain European fool, not even dabbling in powder one bit unless Dalphine forced her to on Sundays. But she definitely felt that same foreign energy, knowing very well she was a fraud.

She knew very well the path she chose for herself was anything but ideal, and that she was risking her whole reputation and stability on the earnings she could receive through this interview. A perfect little fool! Pretty in her cream-colored chiffon dress, that tight black necklace, those laced boots that secretly hid the dagger she won on her tenth birthday. Even her own deceptive blue eyes grew colder as the blade pressed against her skin, as she fidgeted with the waves of the dress.

Always a fool, like that wedding, walking down the narrow aisle, not at all happy and completely exposed. No love was written on her face, only the pale certainty and fear of someone knowing they lost a piece of themselves in a forced, helpless process. The hallow vows, the only expensive clothing Rachel would ever wear again until sent to Heaven, her messy hair finally combed with only the bangs pulled tightly, a single red rose that looked silly on her already cherry-colored head. A pretty fool, just like mother. Just like how God made her feel.

 **_Never was and never will be_ **  
**_Have you no shame? Don't you see me_ **

Now I'm somebody else's fool. Rachel couldn't help but smile at the simple trickery. "Miss Levine, you are in the wrong dress," she said to herself, intently staring at the mirror with a haughty voice. She then giggled-- yes, she finally giggled!-- and clenched at her earrings. They were of the cheapest kind, and so were the shoes, but it'd have to do. Besides, that fake French accent she had mastered would fool the old lady and her butler, and then the cash award would be hers. Easy solution, then she could go home easily and pretend she really was Carolyn Levine, a wealthy landowner from Paris. Not Rachel Faucette Lavien, broke and flung carelessly into a living, financial, and social hell. At least the dress wasn't made from actual curtains this time; it was real.

**_You know you've got everybody fooled..._ **

A jingle from the door startled Rachel.

"Miss?" a little girl asked, shyly peeking from behind the cracked door. "Madam wants to see you."

Rachel nodded slowly, hyperaware of the girl's bright brown eyes. "Yes," came her response, barely above a whisper. Remembering the accent, she rushed: "Yes, of course, I am on my way, thank you."

The girl quickly left like a ghost, fleeting, and soon all that was lingering was anticipation. Rachel gathered her dress and wallet, glancing at herself one last time before rushing quickly downstairs. The only thing that may give herself away now is her sorry excuse for a body; on St. Croix, she was at considerable height, but to the average European within the mainland, she fell on the short side. At least, that made sense to Rachel. Plus, she was terribly scrawny. Sometimes it was an "attractive" look, but could easily be seen as sickly. Rachel prayed it was passing.

Rachel's quick, impatient steps did not match a sauntering French banker in any way. Noticing this, Rachel took her time on the last two steps and even laid a small, pale hand on the railing in an elegant fashion, hoping to look more extravagant than she felt. Tilting her head up slightly and smiling, she met Madam Nancy Cole at the bottom of steps waiting for her. The lady greeted her cheerfully as the two women shared a formal handshake, and the butler bowed dutifully. Miss Levine must be making a lot of friends somewhere!

"Levine! How nice it is to finally meet." Madam gestured to a small dining table in the main room. "Please, have a seat, dear."

 **_Look here she comes now_ **  
**_Bow down and stare in wonder_ **

Rachel looked down, feigning shyness, the way flirty schoolgirls would pretend when luring foolish boys. "Je vous remercie," Rachel said in a clear tongue, perhaps to show off to herself.

"So, what was the appeal for my small little company?" Madam Nancy smiled in such joviality that Rachel felt almost intimidated, out of place.

"Oh, well..." Rachel sat up, smiling in the kindest way she could muster. "In accounting, my numbers have dropped slightly since the winter. It's no real worry, no, I just thought that with a new pitch coming in I'd want some ally to lead the way, give us an anchor to gain more profit. A more local company was ideal, I didn't want anything to appear scandalous." Rachel swallowed as Madam Nancy nodded. "I didn't want a fear about a monopoly of some sort. Couldn't branch out too soon." Trying to sound lighthearted, Rachel made sure a slight scoff was added on the last sentence.

 **_Oh, how we love you!_ **  
**_No flaws when you're pretending_ **

Madam Nancy was buying the act (literally). "Of course!" she said. "And, of course," she said, growing more serious. "There are percentages in my favor?"

"Oh, yes," Rachel reassured, almost giddy over her quick success. "If you check the numbers here, you'll see no losses toward your own profit and gains--even though small--that may improve customer service, all paid back by myself, for simply a minor helping in reliance on my side." Rachel had gently pushed her notepad of financials toward the lady, eyeing her cautiously. This either would make or break the whole deal.

"Ah, let's see..." Putting on eyeglasses, Madam Nancy observed the notepad and nodded to herself.

Rachel clasped her hands, feet tapping nervously on the ground. A sudden doubt made itself known in her mind, a small yet persistent one, calling her out as a fraud. If the numbers were too off, her mask even slipping slightly, jail time and additional charges could be made. A criminal! Like the stories of pirates that circulated in her childish brain, the storybooks, and folktales. How glorious that life would be, Rachel thought sardonically. No store, no job, simply a cell and record looming over her head. Stuck in St. Croix, forever, with a baby on the way... Glorious, indeed!

Frowning, Nancy gestured at some specific point to the butler, and they shared a troubling look. Rachel's nails now dug deep within her palms, cursing silently, waiting for the setback to alter her plans.

However, no word of punishment would ever be made. "Well!" Nancy cried. "I'd never!"

"Y--Yes?" Rachel forced out, almost forgetting the damned accent.

"These are probably the best numbers I've-- Well, quite a deal, Miss Levine! Quite an offer, yes, yes..." She quickly signed a check. "Anything else you may supply me with? Information or otherwise, dear."

Shaking the shock off her face, Rachel smiled. "No, that would be all-- Oh, thank you." She shook Madam Nancy's hand in gratitude.

"Well, of course, dear! Busy little thing. I've heard wonders about a small yet firm business you've worked at, do tell me how you are so able! Pretty young, too, I must say." She paused, pursing her lips as if a sudden thought occurred to her. "Yes, you looked very young. Twenty, almost."

Not pushing luck, Rachel quickly signed her own name and nodded abruptly. "How sweet, Madam. Uh, well, my secret of business has been passed down from generations. Wouldn't want to share a secret?" Rachel winked, not able to control the dark amusement she found within that fool-- tricked and pretty, a pretty little fool!

Nancy laughed. "However you do it, I'd like some of the recipe, partner. Butler, please grab my coat." The butler rushed away, and Nancy added: "I still can't believe someone so talented as yourself is here, in St. Croix, all the way from Europe. Business trip?"

"Definitely. Job offers and such."

"Interesting life, it is."

"Yes."

"Even for such a small, poor little place like this. How plain!"

Rachel clenched her jaw. "It's not... I mean, not as plain as I expected."

"Hmm, I guess." Nancy shrugged. "Not really my cup of tea. You know, I've heard of a few local scams upon my arrival here. I guess the smallest places have more room for fraud."

**_But now I know she..._ **

**_Never was and never will be_ **  
**_You don't know how you've betrayed me_ **  
**_And somehow you've got everybody fooled_ **

Smiling very slowly, Rachel mused: "At least it's never boring."

Before Madam Nancy could ever guess at Rachel's meaning, the butler arrived back and the two said their goodbyes. "If you ever need help, do call!"

"Will do! Farewell, ma'am!" Rachel called, waving and resting a hand on her heart, beating with excitement. On the way out, she met that little girl's eyes once again as the poor thing hurried after the affluent woman.

Rachel's heart always softened around kids. This one, in particular, seemed to be silenced in some way, forced to do something she had no true desire within it. The way she lowered her head, kept her hands behind her back, remained timid and polite. There to follow Nancy around... Rachel tried to stop the girl, to offer some word-- anything that may help-- but just like a ghost, she was gone, and Rachel found herself in that familiar isolation she called home.

* * *

There was no point looking back, Rachel decided early on in life. Yet her curiosity often failed her.

Rachel had walked quickly back home, covering her face with some fan she had found, hoping nobody she personally knew recognized her in such an expensive dress. That would certainly raise questions. A few people did, in fact, glance her way, but to be fair nobody in the commonfolk neighborhood usually wore such gaudy material anyway.

 **_Without the mask, where will you hide?_ **  
**_Can't find yourself lost in your lie_ **

Upon reaching home, Rachel immediately took off the dress and makeup. Now she appeared vulnerable, tired. Placing her dagger on her nightstand, she rummaged through her small collection of money and added the small tip she managed to gain earlier that day from her honest job as a cashier. That, along with the dollar she pick-pocketed from a child who was probably holding onto it for her parent, in line for some fruit.

Heaving a relieved sigh, Rachel collapsed on her bed and stretched. She'd been running back and forth through town, for errands, her job... It wasn't a whole lot, yet the anxiety of not being able to pay rent and keeping her home was a looming thought on top of anything Rachel might actually enjoy. The objects of Rachel's affections were the simple things in life: drinking tea and reading by the window, playing piano, singing, going to some local festival or performance. Sadly, the love in simplicity is lost when evils such as materialism become the only thought in one's tired mind. For Rachel, that meant trickery was the only thought in one's bitter actions.

The only thing honest Rachel had these days was that small black Bible her mother insisted she'd keep after moving out. However, Rachel often wondered if such religious ramblings were just as much as a sham as she was. How many times do people pray to God, and nothing ever comes from it? How often do people call upon the angels, not knowing all that it means? How often do people preach his ways, just to privately invents in money raised from the churches?

Was there any truth in this world? Any undeniable truth? Any way of understanding such a petty world? If God wasn't it, her family wasn't it, her own job and way of life wasn't it, then what? Rachel is aware of her flaws. She is honest enough to point them out, scold them, and plan for something better. But she, like all humans, are still selfish and evil enough to resort to ignorance and lying once again to reach some external gain. Rachel knew she was a hypocrite, and that was irony in itself.

 **_It never was and never will be_ **  
**_You're not real and you can't save me_ **  
**_Somehow now you're everybody's fool_ **

Where it all had gone wrong was a debate Rachel questioned. One could argue it was an uncontrollable force that made sure Rachel was born poor in the Caribbean. One could say it was Delphine's way of motherhood that resulted in Rachel's behavior. Nature and nurture, those are always the dominant controllers, so random in this world. Life was a big game that way, a power game. Perhaps that is why we choose to blame society, blame the world. Rachel has seen this folly but didn't fall in love with that false glitter. Still, she viewed all of what she did as creating a purpose because poor people know well that if you question all other aspects of your existence, you might as well let the wait and fight mean something to you.

Rachel stood up and viewed her small, dusty room. She imagined it full of groceries, desserts, clothing, anything people would buy. She could make a living selling things without being a cashier, below other people. But would give her enough money? Would it be satisfying? Was there another job that could result in happiness? Gently rubbing her stomach and swallowing harshly, she knew eventually she'd have lovely kids to care for. I love kids, she reasoned. I could teach kids for payment. But what if it wasn't enough, and if she were to get found out, what would that show the poor kids?

What would be the dealbreaker?

The youthful side of Rachel Faucette just wanted a fresh start somewhere new, with adventures yet a peaceful enough lifestyle to finally settle down. Have the family she never could. Maybe that's why I want kids, to give someone else the joy I cannot find.

Maybe Rachel isn't as selfish after all, but really, what changes in this world? Truly?

 **_Is this the real life?_ **  
**_Is this just fantasy?_ **  
**_Caught in a landslide_ **  
**_No escape from reality..._ **

Slowly, Rachel's thoughts died down and, closing her sky blue eyes, the twenty-five-year-old drifted into a quiet sleep. The sounds of waves were her lullaby, and the hidden child within herself dreamed of pirates and a mystical beachy land similar in view and touch but different in ideals. In that dream, Rachel was a bystander of that fantasy. She needed a break anyway.

 **_I'm easy come, easy go_ **  
**_A little high, little low_ **  
**_Anyway the wind blows, doesn't really matter to me, to me..._ **

*

Unfortunately, nightmares don't cease. This type of insomnia has haunted Rachel throughout childhood. Delphine used to say it was because her brain was trying to process too much at once and her damned curiosity kept decreasing the quality of sleep. Rachel never knew, but suspected she was never comfortable enough to sleep regardless if her curiosity was uncontrollable or not. These dreams were lucid, repetitive, and extremely vivid. Usually, they had to do with Rachel sleeping in her dream, waking up, and being surrounded by tons of vibrant-colored water. Blue surrounded her, soaking her silky white dress and nearly drowning her. Most of the time, Rachel could swim to the surface, break free, and lift her head to the sun. Right after, the sun would disappear, leaving clouds and rain. She'd get washed up on rocks that stung like daggers, and there she lay, letting the waves consume her over and over again.

**_I'm so tired of being here_ **  
**_Suppressed by all my childish fears_ **  
**_And if you have to leave_ **  
**_I wish that you would just leave_ **  
**_'Cause your presence still lingers here_ **  
**_And it won't leave me alone_ **

When she couldn't reach the surface, she was pulled deep below into blackness, the void she'd fear for the rest of her life. Well, until it was rather close to the truth--then, she was able to accept the fate.

Sometimes in that darkness, there was a small golden light she'd try to reach. She never did reach that light, but she vowed to when she was finally released from Earth. At all costs, that would be her single accomplishment if nothing else. If no other legacy, she had that light, even if it was the product of her own mind.

**_When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears_ **  
**_When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears_ **  
**_And I held your hand through all of these years_ **  
**_But you still have all of me..._ **

Rachel is stubborn that way. 

* * *

Johann Michael Lavien argued he was a money man. He brought home the funds, he knew what he was doing with financials, and everything that may have been a set back was all intentional to provide for the family. However, Rachel would have laughed if someone referred to him as a businessman. The guy would lose his own head if it wasn't attached to him; as a businessman, he'd dig his own grave into debt, and Rachel wouldn't be able to have any say in it. Unless, of course, she ran away. And that's exactly what she planned.

The marriage was already ruthless; no love, hardly any freedom. They'd been technically engaged since Rachel was eighteen, but have only been living together once when Rachel first turned twenty and again when she was twenty-four. Because their debates and personal attacks toward each other, there was really no question except how Delphine thought they were a match in the first place.

"A woman like you shouldn't be swindling when I have money right here," Johann spat.

"You barely have enough money for yourself, you stupid bastard." Rachel had never once called her husband by his name, and every time he said hers he usually got slapped.

"At least I'm honest about it--"

Rachel's voice raised as her words became choppy and strict: "Oh, but are you sure that you have no idea what you're doing? We've lost more in the past month than I did with my own wretched mother--"

"Enough!" Johann yelled. "You will not question my authority."

**_Something's getting in the way_ **  
**_Something's just about to break_ **  
**_I will try to find my place_ **  
**_In the diary of Jane_ **  
**_So, tell me_ **  
**_How it should be?_ **

"You don't have any authority," Rachel said coolly, raising an eyebrow. "You couldn't demand a damned fly to buzz out of your head if it was consuming your rotten flesh."

Lividly, Johann wiped at his mouth and turned around, looking at their bills and checks spilling off the table. "Back from vacation and this is the thanks I get?"

"You son of a bitch, I was left here. I can do without you, as time proves again." Rachel crossed her arms.

"Then go back to your whore mother and let me be!"

"This is my house." Clenching her fists, Rachel glanced around for her dagger. It has to be around here somewhere...

Looking from over his shoulder, Johann retorted: "Not anymore, if you don't straighten up your attitude."

"I'm not a child and you're--"

"I AM YOUR HUSBAND!" He roared.

Rachel narrowed her eyes. "You're not worth horse shit, my love."

Johann angrily made his way to Rachel, but swiftly she turned around and ran.

"Coward! Face me like a man! You women never know what you--" Now he was face-to-face with Rachel, a dagger pointed at his throat. Rachel dug the blade sharper in, Johann gasping.

"What about women, you prick?"

Johann made a whimpering noise.

"C'mon, love." Rachel smiled slowly. "Face me like a man."

 **_Mama, just killed a man_ **  
**_Put a gun against his head_ **  
**_Pulled my trigger, now he's dead_ **  
**_Mama, life had just begun_ **  
**_But now I've gone and thrown it all away_ **

Silence.

"Exactly as I thought. A coward. One of several villains that amongst us." She placed the dagger within the side of her thin pants.

"You witch--"

"Get out." Rachel said calmly.

"Rachel! I'll call the--"

"Get. Out."

 **_Mama, oh oh..._ **  
**_Didn't mean to make you cry_ **  
**_If I'm not back again this time tomorrow_ **  
**_Carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters_ **

The door was slammed. Rachel hummed to herself. She made her way to the cheap piano she managed to bring from her original home with Delphine and began to play the most upbeat, childlike song she knew. "What a fool," she laughed to herself. Satisfied, she sang along to the words in her soprano voice. You would've thought she was a young teen full of spirit, not a cynical adult with harming tendencies. Soon Rachel was bored so she fell asleep peacefully, artistic revenge being her new lullaby beside the ocean's waves.

**_Desperate I will crawl_ **  
**_Waiting for so long_ **  
**_No love, there's no love_ **  
**_Die for anyone_ **  
**_What have I become?_ **

*

Actually running away took a lot more than what Rachel had expected. After the husband and wife's scuffle, Johann became more spiteful than before and looked for a way to get his petty revenge. Several weeks of tension leading up to bigamy charges-- Johann claiming Rachel was married to another man, illegally, and was up to questionable activity. Rachel learned that while in the most threatening situations she felt no fear, rather a cold determination to get her way. She was calculative, but also brash in her anger. The trial was convincing enough to turn Rachel over, yet she got off easier than she would've if she wasn't as careful as she'd been.

Jail wasn't pleasant, and Rachel scowled at the bars and became an introspective woman and almost anxious. Funny, she was afraid behind bars even though she was no stranger to isolation or guilt. Simply being found out, even a little, was humiliating. Rachel accepted it, knew she'd still have a chance. But also, she hated wasting her time. Pacing with slow steps, Rachel kept reaching for her hip as if to find her dagger. Of course, it wasn't there, but fidgeting helped calm restless nerves. It's not like she was sleeping anytime soon.

Sighing, she'd stop after a while and simply close her eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. A lot was accomplished, and besides, Johann had already been screwed over as well. By exposing Rachel he exposed himself. He received his karma, nothing to bother now. She already had her revenge, already served her time. Bringing a gun to a knife fight was pointless. Besides, now she was confident she'd run away from St. Croix. Delphine might be tough to get through, but it'd work out somehow. Rachel refused to believe otherwise.

Rachel was released, slightly ill from not eating as much or doing any other activity than waiting and thinking. Delphine finally reasoned with her daughter, at a price.

"I'll come with you, then." Delphine lifted her chin, silently provoking Rachel. Her curly, strawberry blonde hair was almost gray as it fell over her thin shoulders. She was only slightly taller than Rachel, with the same petite build, just more worn out and less colorful.

 **_Now that she's back in the atmosphere_ **  
**_With drops of Jupiter in her hair, hey, hey_ **  
**_She acts like summer and walks like rain_ **  
**_Reminds me that there's a-time to change, hey, hey_ **

Rachel grudgingly nodded. "Yes. We will ride together, settle together. Do you plan to live with me?"

Delphine narrowed her eyes. "To keep an eye on you, yes. Only for a while." She softly added: "I may not have as much time. Regardless of the past, I want to see my daughter for a bit before I leave."

"Leave?" Rachel asked, the edge to her words gone.

"Yes." Delphine shrugged. "I might die soon."

There wasn't much to explain. Mother was frail, she was getting older now, and became ill easier than Rachel. 

Rachel took her mother's thin hand and nodded, eyes softening. "Of course, mother. I will grant you that, if nothing else, at least."

 _I might die soon._ It haunted Rachel for the rest of the trip, every time she saw her mother in their small home in St. Kitts. She didn't fear it, nor did Delphine. She only felt hollow. She could do without mother, and that's exactly what bothered Rachel at times. It was the same story: Rachel felt as if she should be feeling something more, something blossom within their similar souls. But all she felt was her own shell, willing to follow the horizon for a new life. Maybe the person who kept her grounded to St. Croix could be the key to help her embrace it.

 **_But tell me!_ **  
**_Did you sail across the sun?_ **  
**_Did you make it to the Milky Way_ **  
**_to see the lights all faded?_ **  
**_And that heaven is overrated?_ **

Delphine was okay with dying. She smiled faintly on the hospital bed. "Rachel Faucette, you're one stubborn bitch." She paused, rubbing the palm of her daughter as Rachel watched intently with strange, wet eyes. "That's my girl. Whatever it is you're chasing, I hope you find it. Goodbye, Rachel. I know you'll be okay. You're a fighter. You sure know how to raise hell in this world." Her breathing shallowed. "That's my girl..."

Her heart stopped. Such foreign words, a foreign place. Rachel shed a few tears, looked down, and left the hospital at noon. There was such an odd tone to those last words. Not just _I love you_ , something hidden within what Delphine meant. Like she knew this is how her story would end. Like all the arguments and threats they've ever made was somehow still simple, there within her head, yet faded. Inevitable. A fact not worth discussing or arguing about anymore. Somehow that made the death tragic in Rachel's mind, nevermind the illness or her flawed image of her mother. Nevermind St. Croix.

 **_Tell me!_ **  
**_Did you fall from a shooting star,_ **  
**_one without a permanent scar_ **  
**_And did you miss me while you were_ **  
**_looking for yourself out there?_ **

Rachel surprised herself by learning from her mother that day. She wasn't poetic, she couldn't explain it for Delphine's words were sealed in death. However, it had to do with the fleetingness of life, love, home. Sometimes, that's all they were. An image, a fragment. Neither true nor false, but nevertheless they linger in your head-- a disease, or a blessing. Deep within, no matter what storm arrived, there was this emptiness. A calm before the waves crashed. A sanctuary for the once-ignorant, one in which you were always the one in control, always knowing your actions for better or worse. Rachel would not say if she loved her mother, or if she ever had a fondness for St. Croix that was _true_ , but one thing was clear: There was this bleak emptiness. But perhaps that is what colored Rachel's world to begin with. 

* * *

Rachel learned to walk the streets of St. Kitts without her mother, even though every corner reminded her of the new life they could've had together. Regardless, Rachel continued looking for the big break she needed-- a job, things for the house, a living. Delphine managed to get a very small house at the end of a narrow neighborhood, consisting of seven kids and mostly elders. It was relatively quiet-- peacefully so, rather than the dead silence of their location back in St. Croix. Here and there she'd see the kids run up and down the street, but Rachel only smiled and waved at them occasionally. Her room was bare, having a shelf for the many books she packed and some small items she had cherished. She had a mattress instead of a bed, a single painting and houseplant, and necessities such as cooking supplies, clothes, towels, etc. The white, grey and black sands... the Georgian buildings... the Victorian clock tower... those images became quite familiar.

She was planning on buying things soon, and was even interviewed for a job on short notice.

Pinning her hair up and dressing in a summer dress Delphine had given her as a last present, Rachel met the neighbors and managed to score some more items for her house-- this time, she didn't have to steal or win them over with a fake smile. They simply gave, and Rachel nearly teared up. A small boy zoomed past her, giving her a funny look, but eventually came back and offered a hand-made painting of the ocean. The grandma, Mia, smiled, surprised, and said she'd be willing to help Rachel with anything she needed. Rachel quickly said her thanks, winked at the boy, and left. 

_It would be nice to have a kid._

At the store, Rahcel could buy few items, but saw they were hiring. She asked the man who was at the cashier if they would accept those who were lacking real job experience. He looked at her funny. He was maybe a few inches taller than Rachel, with auburn hair and brown eyes. On his plaid shirt was a nametag that said _James_. He was scrawny, but with broad shoulders and an intense stare. "Well, we could, it really depends on how the boss feels about you." He smiled slightly, and it was almost friendly. "You're new."

Raising an eyebrow, Rachel gathered her items. "I suppose you would know everyone here, the regulars and such."

"Yes, and you are not one of them. Where are you from?"

"St. Croix."

"Ah, still a Caribbean lady."

"Of course. I need a job, however. And soon, I don't really come from the best economic background."

"That's understandable. I'm sure boss will like you." He called over another man, asked for the boss. "He'll take you," James said. "Go, meet the boss."

Rachel dipped her head in thanks, then followed the other worker to a small office at the back. Another act of kindness. Huh. Maybe she was on to something. 

"Here you go." So Rachel waited patiently, fidgeting with a pearl necklace. Maybe that'd make her look more credible. Eventually, she was called into the office. Honestly, there shouldn't have been a reason for the boss to be busy, there were barely anyone else in the store. Nevertheless, a rather short and stout man smiled at her and asked her general wants.

"Well, any job would do, I think. I just need a place to be more stable economically. I have experience working in stores, sir, but you see... I don't have much to my name." She swallowed. "I was homeschooled, not much pass the basics-- except for in handling financials."

"Did you learn that in a school?"

"No, I am self-taught."

He nodded slowly. "What have you been doing for a living?"

 _Lying._ "Well, as I mentioned, there was the store, but then my husband took over. He was... a businessman too." Rachel nearly choked on that word, it was such a joke!

"Really? Did he work in St. Kitts?"

"Croix. Where I'm from. Just moved here." _Calm down, Faucette..._

"Oh, I see!" The man's face brightened. "And is that all?"

"Um..." Rachel's heart sped up. This might be the only job opportunity she could take. What else is around here? A barber's shop, maybe? A restaurant, a bar? She didn't even know... "Yes, sir. But-- if you are skeptical, I'd like a chance. I have some extra money that I can use to get started, and--"

"Where from?"

"My mom." Rachel bit her lip. "She just passed. My mom's little savings were given to me, thanks to the will."

There was a stretch of silence, the man contemplating everything. "Do you have a record?"

"A record...? I... Well, financially, I keep a copy of checks and such. Personal  goals, all that."

"May I see?"

"Oh, yes." She dug through her bag and pulled out a notebook, scribbled in pen throughout many pages. He flipped through the book, and Rachel felt almost as if somehow a very small piece of writing could her all away. Rachel Faucette, a crook, a fraud and swindler. Paranoia was getting the best of her, and Rachel started to sweat and her hand clenched around the pearl necklace she so desperately wanted to rip off her neck. 

"I see," he mused under his breath. He slapped the notebook shut and smiled. "Well! I am surprised that you have any financial experience at all. There are a few minor things for you to fill out, and there is a background check needed, but overall I think it would be the least I can do for a lady so new to our island, who just lost a mother, eh?" He chuckled and slid a paper to her for signing. 

"Background check..." Rachel hesitated. "Well, I don't have papers of that sort."

"ID?"

"I... ran away."

Even more silence. The boss frowned. "You don't have any personal requirements on you?"

"I... No, sir. I do not."

"Well... Rachel, I--"

"I'll do what you'll ask," Rachel promised. "I just want a chance to--"

"Miss Rachel, how do I know you are even allowed to be here? You said you ran away--"

"My husband wouldn't have allowed it, I had to get away from--"

"You're not in St. Croix anymore, Rachel, how am I supposed to--"

"Listen to me!" Rachel cried, impatiently, and the man snapped his mouth shut. Eyes wide, Rachel knew she blew her chance. Looking down, she shoved the notebook back into her purse and left.

She walked as fast as she could, and bumped into James.

"Hey, ma'am, how was--"

"Please," she said with a shaky voice, "let me be."

And the slammed the door. When she arrived home, she ripped the pearl necklace off her neck harshly-- just as she wanted-- and watched as the beads jumped as they hit the ground, scattering in all directions. Just like Rachel.

 **_Oh, and since we know that dreams are dead_ **  
**_And life turns plans up on their head_ **  
**_I will plan to be a bum_ **  
**_So I just might become someone..._ **

**_When I grow old, will you buy me a house of gold?_ **

*

The neighbors took pity on her. Some kid caught Rachel crying outside, and so told Grandma Mia. The elder was someone you couldn't wave off, and because both stubborn energies were combined it was hard to get anything out of Rachel. However, she finally cracked and spilled out the situation, even adding her mother died and she didn't know who to trust. Mia fixed tea and ordered for the kids to behave outside, leaving the two women to speak.

"A precious li'l thing like you don't deserve to be crying over such messy business!" Mia grabbed her hand and smiled. "I will let you work with my son, Robert, fixing houses and such for the locals. It's not the best pay, but we get bonuses here and there because Robert knows a guy who works for a bigger company 'upstate,' if you will. We'll play you."

It wasn't stable, but Rachel thanked Mia and slowly adjusted to working with buildings even though she had no previous experience before. Robert was in a more comfortable spot than usual, he claimed, and so he was okay with giving Rachel some of his cut. She was almost suspicious that Robert may have been a drug trafficker or something, but the people were so kind, and Rachel needed the money, so she took it. It wasn't fitting for her, but she didn't complain. Meanwhile, Rachel contemplated actually fixing her requirements and papers. This was part of a family's income after all, and she was a total stranger.

However, she didn't have to worry too much. Unexpectedly, one day Rachel was sitting on her porch, reading _Pride and Prejudice_ for the hundredth time, when a familiar voice grabbed her attention.

"Miss!" Looking up, she recognized James, still in that awful plaid short and rough haircut.

Shutting her book and standing up hastily, she gaped. "James! The hell! How did you find me?"

He went up to the porch. "I--"

She slapped him in a grand impulse, and James gasped. "Have you been following me?"

"Ow..." He rubbed at his cheek.

"I-- I'm sorry, uh..." She grabbed her cup of water. "Have this."

"Thanks." He drank it, unsurely as if she had poisoned it.

"What are you doing here?" Rachel crossed her arms, expression calming.

Breathing heavily, James handed her a paper. "Boss accepted you."

" _What_?" Her eyes scanned, seeing the signature at the bottom. "But... I ran out."

"I put in word for you. We looked up your records, contacted St. Croix. It wasn't necessarily easy, but... We found you."

Rachel winced. "What else did you find out?"

James's expression softened. "You ran away, your husband was a gambler-- an awful one, at that. Swindled money."

Rachel looked down, embarrassed. "Hey..." James grabbed her arm. "He can't hurt you," he said soothingly. "He's caught. You're fine. You have a job now. We know you're poor...er... than us... but, hey, it'll be alright." 

Looking into his eyes, she saw that he was telling the truth. And they had no idea _she_ was the one who stole all the money Johann was accused of. However, he was put in his place.

"We aren't even divorced..."

"Don't worry about that. There's no use." He embraced her. Putting her head on his shoulder reluctantly, she asked a million questions silently to herself.

*

It's official, the papers and requirements were handled nicely, which was odd, because Rachel knew she must've looked just as nervous as she felt. Regardless, she took a job as a cashier and sometimes as a stocker in the grocery store. It wasn't glorious, however, Rachel could look past that if it meant making money. Isn't that what everyone needed? Money? It's better than being broke and having to steal, having to lie. So Rachel was quite content. Sure, she didn't have much of an overall plan for the future, but that was nothing new. Maybe one day she'd look past tomorrow, but for now she could whistle peacefully as she spent a good six-hour shift, starting at seven in the morning. Sometimes she'd come back at five and work for another two hours, depending on the day and how well she felt.

James was nice to hang out with as well. He was rather quiet, speaking only when he needed to unless he was gossipping about the customers to Rachel. Not that any of it mattered, but it had been so long since Rachel had a friend. Poor Miss Turner had gotten in trouble in St. Croix with landowners. At least they still occasionally wrote.

Paychecks started small, but it was enough. Rachel spent her money wisely, so much so that James had to convince her to buy a small gift for herself, like some brandy. She rolled her eyes at the time, but she had to admit she was craving some distraction. One particular Friday night, Rachel decided to go to the bar. Just for fun. She forgot what it felt like to not feel like a social outcast, and besides, she truly felt she deserved it. James offered to go with her. Rachel obliged, mostly because she knew that drinking alone may have felt more special lately but it was nothing compared to spending it with someone you really liked.

 **_Hey there, Delilah_ **  
**_What's it like in New York city?_ **  
**_I'm a thousand miles away_ **  
**_But, girl, tonight you look so pretty_ **  
**_Yes, you do_ **  
**_Times Square can't shine as bright as you_ **  
**_I swear, it's true_ **

They took many shots, and it was evident Rachel didn't get drunk too often. She surprised James with her giggling and outbursts, and how her already fiery personality somehow burned brighter. She let her dark cherry hair loose-- it was usually in a bun. She wore a sexy red dress, not her usual sundress or casual clothing. Her sky blues eyes began taking the color of the neon signs, this energy being illuminated within her. It seemed like she was childish, like years were stripped off her. Like she could finally breathe, finally live. She asked for three more shots.

However, there was certainly a line to draw for those as bold as Rachel. James should've seen it coming, and honestly neither of them remembered how it started, but Rachel began making a fuss over something with some other lady. Maybe she had called her a slut, and Rachel's eyes turned cold. Her face didn't even flush, but the other ladies did once she realized Rachel had overheard. Rachel took a drink from James's beer and marched straight up to the lady, calling her out. She wasn't even prissy or calculating about it-- her words spilled like a raging storm.

 _**Hey there, Delilah** _  
_**Don't you worry about the distance**_  
_**I'm right there if you get lonely**_  
_**Give this song another listen**_  
_**Close your eyes**_  
_**Listen to my voice, it's my disguise**_  
_**I'm by your side**_

And it was the most beautiful thing James ever saw.

 _**Oh, it's what you do to me** _  
_**Oh, it's what you do to me...**_

He was the one to break the two up before a real fight started, and after Rachel's impressive vulgar vocabulary was displayed, a lot of the other customers whistled and applauded. This was like a reality show, and people really ate that shit up sometimes. Rachel bowed and was outrageously hot and stunning, demanding the attention of the whole crowd. There were obviously people who thought lowly of her, shooting daggers with their eyes, but the majority must've been too drunk to care. Rachel was like a celebrity. Everyone wanted her after that, and suddenly people were talking to her and offering her drinks. James said she had too much, and though Rachel pouted briefly she didn't put up a fight. 

Rachel didn't even remember the singing, or any of the people she had talked to, or the kiss. Well, _mostly_ not the kiss. But that was all, James reassured later on, there was one kiss and then James brought her home. She was already half-passed out, drunk but still stunning. He understood then that Rachel was even more unpredictable than he thought. She truly was a fire that couldn't be washed out, and somehow of all places, she was in St. Kitts. Still alive, still real. What a blessing.

*

Their relationship grew close, naturally. Much of Rachel's past wasn't clear; she never seemed able to open up about much. That is, until James found himself in a financial slump. Similar to Lavien, James was quite a fool when it came to that stuff, but in a different way. Later he'd explain that he was paying for his grandma's surgery, and she was the last person in his family that hadn't banned him. Rachel didn't ask why. She didn't want to push it. But she listened to the story, and learned things such as his small childhood fun with grandma, that she collected teapots and loved the color lavender; she loved the night sky; she knitted and told the best stories; and though she couldn't cook, she'd let James eat all the sweets he wanted. Rachel smiled, thinking about her mother, and her own small childhood and how much she too loved the night sky. And she actually felt her heartbreak, not just for grandma but because James actually began to sob.

At first, she had no clue as to how to help. Men usually just didn't cry like that, especially in front of her. Her dad was a mystery, he was never there, and Rachel had no surviving siblings. A few uncles, a few cousins, but they had never cried. Not even Delphine-- none of the Faucettes were sentimental like that. But now a grown man was crying in front of her. Rachel rubbed his back, held his hand for a little bit, but she said nothing. She kept her space.

She finally said: "She sounds like a lovely person. I bet she's an angel. I'm sorry. It's dumb to say, almost, but still. I think she can join the sky now, right? Finally learn to dance with day, and hear the stars. I bet she'd like that."

 **_Another mother's breaking_ **  
**_Heart is taking over_ **  
**_When the violence causes silence_ **  
**_We must be mistaken_ **

James sobbed harder.

They worked together to get out of debt. They visited the funeral. Eventually, it grew obvious that there simply was no easy recovery. Rachel learned to be patient, and to react better to pain, and she loved her new honest life. However, something snapped. Nothing messed with those who love her, who she cares about. The world isn't fair but that doesn't mean she's going to watch the vibrant hope drain from the damned islands that were supposed to be free. So she worked her magic. She earned a couple of cash on the side, even went back to Mia's for a while. One day, during a shorter shift, she walked up straight to James and handed him the bag of money.

"How--"

"Don't ask."

"I don't want you to pity me."

Rachel shrugged. "I don't. I can't see you suffer. I don't want to suffer anymore."

That meant a lot, James realized, coming from Rachel. She was born stubborn and knew how to twist people's mind. He didn't ask. But eventually, Rachel would tell him. It happened while they were out one night, simply talking about whatever it is that came to their heads. There were still problems, a general boredom in both their lives, even that feeling you have when you know something is missing, but have no idea what'd make the world seem whole again. Rachel admitted to having fear after James claimed she was the bravest person he knows.

"Well, prove me right. Tell me what your fear is."

 **_It's not my family_ **  
**_In your head, in your head, they are fighting_ **

Funny, Rachel had to think. She thought of Lavien's abuse, Delphine dying, her broken family. She thought of her lies, her violence, her need to hide and lie. She thought of those nightmares she still had, the one of drowning. And that damned light in the void. After staring at the night sky for a long time, she said: "My greatest fear... is perhaps that none of this matters. That the fight was for nothing. That we're all in control-- and I wondering what is better, to be the slave of fate or luck, or general rules we live by... or losing control. Becoming exactly what these rules say you are, nothing else. I don't know exactly. I just... wish I knew more. Knowledge is what keeps fools like us alive."

James nodded slowly, deeply reflecting on this. "But what about your heart? It's cliche as hell. But really, do you ever listen to your heart?"

Rachel smiled. "I hear it, sometimes. I just don't let it rule."

"Why not?"

Shaking her head, Rachel met his eyes. "I was never taught to be that way."

**_What's in your head, in your head?_ **

**_Zombie, zombie..._ **

"It's funny, because humans are designed to be wild, to listen to those instincts. We become civilized, we learn morality and such to actually make us good people. But that means we are more likely to hide. We all have that same impulsive wanderlust. I think you're one of the few aware of that, yet you don't act. I wonder, what things have you seen..." He paused. "What battles have you fought..."

So she started at the very beginning. James was shocked, but accepted it and said he should've known.

"Only someone as stunning as you could threaten a husband with knives and sneak out any situation."

"So I'm not a monster?"

"No, no." He laughed. "Far from it. Not an angel, but you glow anyway."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "What now?"

"Tell me-- and I'll shut up for the rest of the night-- but what do you want right now? If you could wish for anything, what would it be?"

Clenching her fists and jaw, Rachel wanted so badly to know. What was the missing puzzle? She believed in putting purpose in her life made her role, not in letting the universe necessarily decide. So what was it?

"I just... wish I knew. Wish I felt. I wish I belonged, I guess."

**_In your head, you're fighting..._ **

James took her hand. "You do. Believe me, you do."

*

It was, by some weird chance, that Rachel found out she was pregnant pretty damn close to her birthday. First, she was terrified. The thought scared the living hell out of her-- she thought back to Lavien... And practically threw up while trying to restock some shelves on a Wednesday evening. James had no idea, for he was at the front of the store, loyally doing his job. Rachel was speechless, ran up to the boss and asked for a sick day. Because Rachel was incredibly well-behaved and spirited most of the time, he let her go. Rachel quickly said goodbye to James, face pale, and he grabbed her wrist. Rachel flinched.

"You good?"

Suddenly she burst out into tears, smiling. "Yes. Yes, you'll see, I promise."

Rachel was enigmatic, but usually not so emotional. But James gave her space.

The first person she told was Mia, who told the rest of the family, including all the kids. They were already planning a baby shower when the eldest girl in the household-- about twenty herself-- noticed Rachel was shaking. "Oh, the poor thing! How you do ruin things, Grammy!" She pulled Rachel to the bathroom and the two talked for a while, and after medical advice, Rachel went home to think to herself.

 _I love kids. I guess I want a family, people I can love and people to love me. But pregnancy..._ Rachel knew the sickness was going to be awful. She was sick often as a kid, and oh God, she was still quite skinny. Her hips weren't the best. Could she even live through it? Sure, Delphine did, but oh God...

 **_Hey there, Delilah_ **  
**_I know times are gettin' hard_ **  
**_But just believe me, girl_ **  
**_Someday I'll pay the bills with this guitar_ **  
**_We'll have it good_ **  
**_We'll have the life we knew we would_ **  
**_My word is good_ **

James came to her as soon as the shift was over, and she finally told him. The hug was quick and sweet. 

"You have nothing to fear," James promised, squeezing her hand. "We can get through this..."

If it weren't for James, Rachel wouldn't have believed it. "You're the bravest person I know."

*

Rachel's heart fluttered as she laid in bed, face burning as she rubbed her swollen stomach. It was months within the pregnancy. Morning sickness was, of course, common, and she missed work several times. She went through a mental checklist of everything she and the baby needed. Do we have enough money? How am I going to raise a kid? Will James lose his job? Thoughts like this could keep any mother haunted. Mother. Oh, gosh, that title is so odd! Delphine, now Rachel? Like mother, like daughter... Rachel resisted the urge to throw up violently and cry.

Mia and the eldest girl of the household-- Lataura-- visited regularly to check up on Rachel and generally made sure she wasn't lonely while James was off at work. "No pregnant lady deserves to feel lonely," Mia explained, and Lataura smiled and dabbed a wet cloth on Rachel's head. "You're doing nicely," she complimented, "and you're beautiful, Rachel. You'll be a wonderful mother."

"I don't know," Rachel fretted. "I've known to be quite selfish. And paranoid. What if I can't give them the lives they want?"

"This is pre-birth anxiety. Happens to the best of us," Mia said. The women held Rachel's hand.

"I wonder what mother would say to me, if she was here."

There was a pause of silence.

"She'd be proud," Lataura said with that blinding white smile.

 **_Now that she's back in the atmosphere_ **  
**_I'm afraid that she might think of me as_ **  
**_Plain ol' Jane, told a story about a man_ **  
**_who is too afraid to fly so he never did land_ **

It's true, Rachel was paranoid, and though the illness was common, she kept her head up. It was hard, but Rachel thought of it this way: Proving all of the damned universe wrong. She was told multiple times she'd probably never breed because no one would ever want her, and if she did she'd breed nothing but disasters, like the whore she was. How incredibly stupid of them.

"Of course, this is how I die."

James shook his head and laid next to her, arms around her broader waist. "You're going to be fine."

"I haven't even thought of a name."

"An easy fix," James reassured. "A junior, after me?"

Rachel scoffed. "Well, it's the only noble male name I can think of. You're the only male role model in my life."

"Think of a name that you find appealing, a name you can imagine singing a lullaby to every single night."

Rachel did think. She thought of common names for boys and girls, for she had no idea which gender it'd be. Everything seemed so impersonal, far away. She then thought in alphabetical order, and paused when it hit her. She pursed her lips, then opened her mouth to speak, but failed. She repeated the name in her head, then, a few several times, stretching the syllables out and imagining what it would be like to whisper that name while was infant would sleep. Finally, the infant would look up at Rachel's blue eyes with wonder, something Rachel would wish for every kid so they never felt forgotten. Not like how Rachel felt.

 **_But tell me!_ **  
**_Did the wind sweep you off your feet?_ **  
**_Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day?_ **  
**_And head back to the Milky Way_ **  
**_And tell me, did Venus blow your mind?_ **  
**_Was it everything you wanted to find?_ **  
**_And did you miss me while you were_ **  
**_looking for yourself out there..._ **

"Alexander," she said, the name rolling off her tongue in bliss. It was so soothing, yet so powerful. 

James smiled slowly. "Alexander? Well. We have a winner."

Rachel snorted. "As long as I don't have savage children as everyone expects-- _Lord of the Flies_ style-- I'd be satisfied."

* * *

A winner they were. Two kids-- James, Jr. and Alexander. Born slightly apart. Rachel hummed as she gently caressed the faces of those precious toddlers, feeling so _right_. She created something so beautiful. And how peaceful! Children should always remain peaceful, kind and curious creatures. They truly deserved the world. Rachel's heart swelled, nervous but more prideful than ever. She'd keep them safe, she'd be the mother she never had.

James and Rachel were happy for a while. They had beautiful kids, a sunny new life, jobs, and a fresh start at life. They were free, lost their regret and just started to enjoy life. That is the least they deserved, right?

Rachel sang and played piano more often. James decided to give painting and pottery a try, as a small hobby. They took turns holding each kid, thinking about how they'd look and act as they grew older.

"James certainly is your direct legacy," Rachel joked. "Look, he has darker hair. How interesting. He's quiet, just like you."

He rolled his eyes. "Quiet, hmm? Well, Alexander reminds me of you. He seems so intently focused, and he's direct."

On cue, baby Alexander whined.

 **_She asked me, "Son, when I grow old_ **  
**_Will you buy me a house of gold?_ **  
**_And when your father turns to stone_ **  
**_Will you take care of me?"_ **

Rachel laughed. "Regardless, I love them both so much." She kissed their cheeks. "What shall I read tonight, little ones? Fantasy, adventure..." She had gotten up to look through the mini bookshelf they owned. Her dainty fingers danced on each book spine before she smiled at a smaller collection. "How about poetry?"

She flipped to a random page, and without really scanning through the words first she read:

" _Child, child, love while you can_

_The voice and the eyes and the soul of man,_

_Never fear though it breaks your heart-_

_Out of the wound, new joy will start;_

_Only love proudly and gladly and well_

_though Love be Heaven or Love be Hell._

_Child, child, love while you may_

_for life is short as a happy day;_

_Never fear the thing you feel-_

_Only by love is life made real;_

_Love, for the deadly sins are seven,_

_Only through love will you enter Heaven._ "

And Rachel cried, briefly interrupting the sleep of her children.

 **_I will make you queen of everything you see_ **  
**_I'll put you on the map_ **  
**_I'll cure you of disease..._ **

*

Happy days were common, and Rachel found herself get more sentimental-- and more paranoid, as if something were to happen. A mother's sense is usually right-- though Rachel only just now learned this-- and though years past, slowly the struggle became unraveled. She sat down, cursing that the world considered her children illegitimate, that bigamy charges were still a thing, and that she was being called out on her old, selfish ways as if they applied to her now. James became in debt once more, and discussions were held as to what their plan of action would be.

They argued. God, they argued.

It wasn't abusive, or manipulative, so there was still hope they could be together and be happy. However, Rachel felt betrayed. Another relationship bites the dust, another regret to carry and burden with her heart. With sad eyes and a frail voice, James announced he'd be leaving to find money for the family and so that perhaps the conflict around the charges would drop and be forgotten. He kissed his children with a heavy soul-- he kissed Rachel as well and wished her luck, leaving the remainder of their money-- and left.

 **_Hey there, Delilah_ **  
**_I've got so much left to say_ **  
**_If every simple song I wrote to you_ **  
**_Would take your breath away_ **  
**_I'd write it all_ **  
**_Even more in love with me you'd fall_ **  
**_We'd have it all_ **

Just like that.

Rachel learned not to let bitterness consume her. And Rachel learned how to love. So though she was heartbroken, she had the money, she had her angels in their soft bed. And she sang anyway, warm and sweet. And she dreamed like the poets before her-- dreamed like the mothers before her-- and when she entered sleep, there was no threat of that ocean, that blackness or damned fleeting light. She was just _there_. And she learned to just let it be.

 **_Hey there, Delilah_ **  
**_You be good, and don't you miss me_ **  
**_Two more years and you'll be done with school_ **  
**_And I'll be makin' history like I do_ **  
**_You know it's all because of you_ **  
**_We can do whatever we want to_ **  
**_Hey there, Delilah, here's to you_ **  
**_This one's for you_ **

*

The illness almost didn't surprise Rachel. Almost.

She was frail, weak, pale, swaying on her feet... Relying on _children_ to make her feel better. God knows there were no nurse, and they no longer lived by Mia, and oh it was a nightmare. Her worst fear: helplessness, again. 

 **_Too late, my time has come_ **  
**_Sends shivers down my spine_ **  
**_Body's aching all the time_ **  
**_Goodbye everybody I've got to go_ **  
**_Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth..._ **

She smiled sadly at James and Alexander's efforts. They gave Rachel everything she could ask for, and more, and they were such angels. They loved their mother very much.

Rachel didn't know if she were to live, so she wrote a will later on during one of the worse days of her sickness. She threw up, she shook, she was sweating terribly. This could be the end, she genuinely thought, and though she didn't want her children to be ill, she let them hang onto her skinny frame. She let them shower her with kisses and songs, and she held their hands tightly.

 **_Let's say we up and left this town_ **  
**_And turned our future upside down_ **  
**_We'll make pretend that you and me_ **  
**_Lived ever after happily..._ **

Ultimately, it was this that wanted her to live so terribly, despite the agonizing pain: "Mama, no, you're so strong, you can make it through this- I believe in you!" It was Alexander, her personally more intimate child, and he was terrified.

They were in that bed, both crying. There was a soft candle Alexander had left, a burning orange light. _The light..._ Rachel's mind wondered. It was the light.

 **_I don't want to die!_ **  
**_Sometimes wish I'd never been born at all..._ **

"Alexander," Rachel managed as her son choked in sobs, "I love you. Alexander..." That was the last name on her last breath. Her arms were still around him, and she was not consumed by waves; she was floating in them, surrounded by light-- not the blackness, not the hauntingly blue image of her nightmares.

The light went out, but oh, did Heaven still glow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know if anyone is keeping up with this anymore, but my mental health has been kinda odd lately so if the ending feels, in any way, rushed, well... that explains it. i hope it didn't get in the way of telling this lovely story that i've been excited to write for a very long time. 
> 
> REFERENCES:  
> "American Pie" by Don McLean  
> "Everybody's Fool" by Evanescence  
> "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen  
> "My Immortal" by Evanescence  
> "Diary of Jane" by Breaking Benjamin  
> "Drops of Jupiter" by Train  
> A poem by Sara Teasdale, sorry I don't actually know the name  
> "Hey There, Delilah" by Plain White T's  
> "Zombie" by The Cranberries  
> "House of Gold" by TOP

**Author's Note:**

> queennyxie.tumblr.com <\--- my tumblr, just in case


End file.
